


GG, Kronos, But I Have Foresight

by TheRealEvanSG



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: Comedy, For Want of a Nail, Gen, Gender Bender, Self-Insert, Squishy Mortal OC
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2018-12-24 18:41:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 36,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12018732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRealEvanSG/pseuds/TheRealEvanSG
Summary: In which the Greek gods are all pretty much Jerkass Gods with their own agendas, Percy is a ridiculously sassy little kid, Chiron is awkward af, and I'm just a punk-ass, possibly bisexual otaku making butterflies so big that they create fucking tornadoes. Oh, and I also appear to have been turned into a girl for some largely unknown reason. Fuck it, I'm not taking this. Kronos is getting so many blue plastic hairbrushes to the face.





	1. Prologue - I'm the Only One Without a Vote on My Fate, as Usual

It was early in the morning of the Winter Council, and the tension in the air within the throne room of the gods was a churning soup of discomfort and nervousness. Even in normal times, the Winter Council was never exactly a  _peaceful_  place when you grouped together twelve immortal beings who were all at varying degrees of boredom, as well as annoyance with each other. But group together twelve of these people when war with the king of the Titans, Kronos himself, and his small army is gearing up for full-on war? The tension was so thick one could cut it with a knife. Literally. Ares was actually congealing tension around him and cutting it with his knife.  
  
"Plans are all stupid," Ares said sagely as he spread his tension on a slice of bread, humming something suspiciously similar to  _Iron Maiden_. "This is never going to work out for us, you know. I don't care what Hypnos's dream said, mortals  _never_ succeed at anything we send them to do. And demigods are only slightly better than them. I'm telling you, we should just send hobbits. Those movies were  _awesome_."  
  
Athena's eye twitched. "First of all, hobbits  _aren't real_. And second of all, plans  _always_  work better than just flying by the seat of your pants and trying to bust through with your strength."  
  
"The sweet-ass silver Harley I rode through an alt-right rodeo during a solar eclipse begs to differ."  
  
"Girls, girls," Apollo hummed, strumming his lyre, "you're both pretty. In Athena's case, stunning." This earned him a scathing glare from the god of war and a particularly loathsome frown from the goddess of knowledge (and olive branches). The musician poet pointedly ignored this. "But Athena is correct. I have a hunch that Hypnos's mysterious dream the other day might be just the thing we need to put a cork in this entire plot of our dear...  _forefather._ "  
  
Zeus's hands clenched on his arm rests. "To think that we would desire help from a mere mortal... unthinkable!" he cursed, his godly knuckles whitening. "I refuse to go through with this plan!"  
  
"Even if it means putting a stop to this pointless death?" Hades hissed, leaning forward in his own dark throne, eyes gleaming. "The immeasurable expansion of  _my kingdom_  -- which, I might add, is already filled to  _bursting_?"  
  
Poseidon raised a steady hand. "Peace brother," he requested. He sighed and shook his head. "We all know about the state of your kingdom -- you've been complaining about it since 1865. And Zeus," the enormous being added, his eyes green like the sea, "would you really refuse help that might save all of our children from countless unnecessary deaths? Haven't you already suffered from Thalia's first 'death' enough? Would you really risk the possibility of her dying a second time?"  
  
Zeus's fists clenched his throne tighter. Ozone crackled in the throne room. " _Thalia is stronger than she used to be,_ " he hissed, his words like the soft, rolling thunder coming from the horizon on a stormy day. " _She won't lose again_."  
  
"That Percy kid seems to be able to beat her ass just fine," Ares reasoned.  
  
Hermes snorted. "Never thought I'd hear the warmongerer try to use logic," he snarked, grinning widely and high-fiving a smirking Apollo while Ares gritted his teeth. "But in any case, yeah, that's right. And..." His eyes grew downcast. "My son, Luke... he's an even better fighter than Percy. There's no telling who might lose their lives in the coming battle. But if it were at all possible to avoid it altogether..."  
  
"I'm all for saving our children," Artemis said with a frown, "but must it be a mortal male? And must he be a mortal male  _from another world_?"  
  
Persephone stroked her chin. "According to Hypnos's dream, he apparently knows our future from a series of books... but can he really save us all?"  
  
"Perhaps if he'd eat more cereal," suggested Demeter to Persephone's immense chagrin.  
  
A few moments of silence hung in the air.  
  
"We shall put it to a vote based on majority rule," Zeus said at last, sitting up straight. "Do we pull Evan Gamble from his world into our past to save our future, or do we proceed as we are now?"  
  
One more moment of hesitation passed before Hades rose his hand. Three other hands rose into the air for the first option. Four hands rose into the air for the second option. The gods glanced at each other to see who had yet to vote, and everyone's eyes fell upon Artemis.  
  
"Artemis? Hera?" Dionysus yawned, turning a page in his latest magazine. "I don't particularly care what you choose, but can you two at least make your decisions? I have a game of Pac-Man I need to get back to in Minneapolis."  
  
Artemis sighed and leaned back in her chair. "Does this hero  _really_ have to be a hero? What's particularly great about him that a girl can't do, or do better?"  
  
Hermes and Apollo looked at each other and shrugged. Athena, however, stood up and shook her head. "He's quite the smart young man, and his writings have shown he is a kind person who would be willing to change events for the better if placed in these situations."  
  
The silver-eyed huntress sighed. "Be that as it may, he is a man, and I cannot let a man do a job a woman could do just as well at."  
  
"I agree with Artemis," Hera huffed. "There are too many male heroes in the stories these days."  
  
"What if we made him a girl?" Aphrodite suggested, tilting her head. "I could handle that. Would you both be willing to accept then?"  
  
Artemis and Hera exchanged glances. An unspoken agreement passed between them, and they nodded.  
  
"Very well," the Huntress said at last, and her and Zeus's wife raised their hands. "Do this, and I shall accept his... or rather, her involvement in the proceedings of our future."  
  
"And I as well," Hera agreed.  
  
Zeus, who had voted against, cursed. "Blast! Then it is decided. Evan Gamble shall be in charge of the future of our entire world... as Eve Gamble." There was a clap of thunder, and flashes of lighting rained down on New York City despite there being no storm clouds or rain. Foolish mortals, unaware of the giant mountain hovering above their beloved Empire State Building, were left to watch the light show with great confusion. And as for me? Well, I was left to curse like a sailor as, far away from the gods and goddesses in an entirely alternate version of the United States, I felt the ground suddenly disappear from beneath my feet and send me tumbling into a great abyss.


	2. And I'd Just Escaped High School, Too

I don't know if you know anything about Ohio, but normally, the ground doesn't open up right beneath your feet, toss you into a vortex of confusion, color, and contrast, and then dump your sorry ass on a bed in a boarding school at New York City. The ground is normally very solid and unmoving. You can usually expect it to keep you in your own plane of existence.  
  
Me, though?  
  
I wasn't so lucky.  
  
Falling through the magical rabbit hole, I quickly laid out a few possibilities as to how this could be happening. First: pipe dream. Evidence to this would be the whacky and shimmering rainbow colors that the walls of this otherwordly tunnel were composed of. Evidence against this would be that I'd made it a point to never ingest any sort of drug I didn't need, even over-the-counter allergy pills that didn't do shit to my allergies. Fuck Zertec.  
  
Second: I was drunk and hallucinating all of this. There was only evidence to the contrary on this point, sadly. I had no idea whether drinking could give you the sensation of continuously falling at sufficient velocity. Furthermore, just like with drugs, I'd gone out of my way to never accept any drinks offered to me, even from my parents. The only alcohol I'd ever partaken of was Sunday morning church wine, and I highly suspected that the priests commonly cheaped out and replaced the stuff with grape juice, anyway.  
  
Third: I was asleep and dreaming all of this. Again, not even close to an option. It had been bright, mid-August daylight mere minutes ago. I had an unfortunate habit of consistently failing at any and all attempts to take a nap, so unless I was having some weird daydream -- which I supposed  _could_ be possible since I was ADD -- that was out of the question.  
  
So, what did that leave, then? Bad mushrooms? Nah, I was picky eater; I  _hated_  mushrooms.  
  
...Hmmmm.  
  
As I continued to fall through this rainbowy dimension, I folded my arms across my chest and crossed my legs. Cold wind buffetted my brown hair around and peeled my somewhat ovular face up. To any outsiders, I would've looked cartoonishly uncomfortable, and I was. Do you think having your lips ripped upwards by the sheer force of the wind striking your face is  _fun_? If so, you're even more insane than I am, which is saying something, since I once binged the entirety of  _Ouran High School Host Club_  while I was sick and could barely keep my eyes open because of my damn allergies. My eyes were itchy as hell after that incident, but goddammit if the laughs weren't worth it.  
  
Oh, lookie there. The tunnel's stopping. Seems like my pointless, internal rambling had managed to pass enough time that I'd finally escaped this weird wormhole aaaaaand oh, fuck, now I'm falling at terminal velocity, directly onto a bed in the middle of some completely random room.  
  
 _WHUMP_. My soft body landed heavily on the bed, which seemed just barely able to fit my 5'9" body in it. Its wooden legs creaked, and the bed shook dangerously. All of the air I had in my body rapidly escaped my lungs upon impact and I choked dryly.  _Owww_. That had  _hurt_. Human bodies weren't designed to experience high-velocity impact on a cheap-ass bed mattress that was barely softer than a prison floor! I think I cracked a rib or two. Possibly three. Sue me, I'm no doctor.  
  
Actually, please don't! I'm dirt poor as it is and really don't need to hire a lawyer.  
  
I groaned painfully as I bounced once, twice, on the very hard bed before finally stopping. My head spun, and my entire body ached. My chest especially hurt. In fact, it hurt strangely bad, like someone had kicked me in the balls but kind of a lesser sensation. It was making it a bit hard to breathe. That might've been from the added heaviness on my chest, though. It wasn't much at all, but I  _definitely_  noticed it, and it  _definitely_  felt like I had two weights strapped above my non-existent man-boobs. Like, what the hell? Had the thing that spirited me away from walking my dog on a bright, sunny August day also decided it cared about my physical strength? Screw you, mysterious ROB, if I want to be lazy about my physical condition, then I'm not gonna just half-ass it.  
  
Can you half-ass half-assing things? ...I don't rightly know. Give me a few seconds on that one.  
  
I opened my eyes without even realizing I closed them, groaned as I swung my shapely legs over the edge of the bed, and rubbed my head. Well, at least the pain told me this was real.  
  
Closing my eyes, I sighed and shook my head. I couldn't just sit here all day. I had to figure out some clue as to where I was and exactly what had happened to me. For the first time, I took stock of my new environment.  
  
Going by the fact that I was actually on a bunk bed, I was in a generic, unassuming dorm room, with depressing grey walls that seemed designed to give absolutely no psychological stimulus to the occupants, be it positive or negative. The floor was a fluffy, light yellow wool carpet, the kind of yellow that people use when they don't want to be blatantly in your face about it. Plastered to the wall were posters for various celebrities, like Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt, and the posters had pink paper hearts of varying sizes taped to them. Noises of some city -- the high whine of cars, the honking of horns -- permeated softly through the grey walls.  
  
A closet was shoved against the wall to my right, with a door next to it. The closet was filled to bursting with a rather ridiculous amount of items, not a single one of them having any sort of relevance to the rest. Another closet sat next to a window on the wall to my left, and upon inspecting its contents, I noticed that it was much more orderly than its brother. Clean, ironed clothes dangled carefully on hangers. They were all definitely girls' clothes, and certainly were a school uniform. A bead of sweat rolled down my cheek, and I looked to the wall directly in front of the bunk bed I was sitting on. A desk with a large mirror sat there beneath a heart-covered poster of Brad Pitt, and upon its surface sat a variety of makeup supplies and brushes and whatnot that I couldn't even begin to name.  
  
Well, that settled that, then. I was in some sort of girl's dorm room in some random city. Going by the rather aggravating amount of honking that came from the traffic outside, and the fact that I could see what looked to be a row of brownstone buildings from the window, the city was New York. I'd been to New York about four times, and had vacationed in several other important American cities, and I could say with some certainty that the Big Apple had the nosiest drivers of them all.  
  
The thought crossed my mind that I might not be in an American city altogether.  
  
I furiously punched and kicked that thought into the back of my mind, where it cowered in darkness. I was  _not_  spending the rest of my life kidnapped and forced to live in a Russian girl's dorm.  
  
I pushed myself off of the bunk bed, cursing as I landed on my foot badly, and hobbled over to the door. It opened before I could get a chance to even grab the knob though, and my momentum carried me forward into a soft body. My vision was momentarily blocked by said soft body.  
  
 _Oh God, please don't let this be a face-in-the-boobs cliche, please don't let this be a face-in-the-boobs cliche,_ I whined desperately in my head.  
  
A sharp intake of surprise reached my ears and I backed away from the soft body to examine the girl whom I'd accidentally run into. Judging from my height and hers, I had lucked out and hadn't actually gotten my face stuck in her breasts. Then again, she didn't actually have much in that way to speak of. She was a short thing, shorter than me at least, and my vision had been blocked by her hair, not her chest. She currently was not in a school uniform, but rather in an edgy black shirt that depicted a heart pierced by an arrow with a jaggedy shaft. She wore equally edgy black pants, and from how well she would've blended into a night sky, to me she kind of looked like she was trying to simulate both a robber and an early 2000's punk band groupie. Then again, she didn't really have the hair for my last judgement; it was straight and a natural red, tied into a ponytail that hung on her back.  
  
We stared for a few moments. She looked highly unimpressed with my accidental faceful of her hair.  
  
"Um, hello, Earthling," I said, offering a small, nervous wave. "Are you Russian?"  
  
Was my voice always that high? I mean, I had a naturally high voice, but I'd thought it was at least low enough to be considered a male's.  
  
The girl cocked her eyebrow. "Eve," she said slowly, like I was a piece of gum on the bottom of her black school shoes, "you are  _so_  weird."  
  
"My name's not Eve, it's Evan!" I snapped, wincing as she shoved past me and elbowed me into the door.  _Owwww_ , my funny bone. Seriously!? On top of having cracked ribs, I now also had a hurt funny bone!? This was  _not funny_ , God. Just what was going on, anyway? I randomly got stolen from walking my dog in Ohio, I ended up in what's probably a girl's dorm room in New York City, my voice is higher, and this edgy redheaded girl just called me Eve.  
  
...Wait.  
  
 _Waaaaaait_. Just what did I like to do in my free time? Just what did I pour my life and soul and precious hours of sleep into every day of my life?  
  
Fuck. I was a self-insert.  
  
While the redheaded girl gaped at me, I rubbed my non-existent beard and paced in circles in the doorway, largely ignoring the aching in my chest and funny bone. Okay, so I at least know this much now. But what series was I in? Shit, I'd read and watched a lot of stuff. How was I supposed to know where I was? I still didn't know enough about this location to make an accurate guess...  
  
I rushed over to the redhead, grabbed her, and shook her desperately. Her eyes widened in surprise and she attempted to knock my hands off of her shoulders. "What year is this!?" I asked hurriedly.  
  
"2005!" she yelped, eyes wide. "Hey, let go, bitch!"  
  
2005... okay, so I was  _definitely_  on Earth, then. Of course, I'd suspected as much anyway from the posters of Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt, but it was nice to have confirmation. Swallowing dryly, I asked, "Where are we?"  
  
"Did you hit your head or something?" The girl squinted at me and punched my elbow. Yelping, my grip on her shoulders relaxed, and I keeled over to nurse my poor elbow. "We're at Yancy Academy, home to every kind of problem child you could name. I'm Nancy Bobofit, and you're my annoying roommate, Eve Gamble."  
  
That got me to look up from my elbow. Yancy Academy... Yancy... why did that name sound familiar? Nancy Bobofit was ringing a bell, too. A very faint bell, to be sure, but it  _was_  ringing something. Yancy Academy... Nancy Bobofit... Some series I had watched or read.... I tapped my foot as I tried to link them together.  
  
 _Furies. Centaurs. Decapitating math teachers.  
_  
My pearly, hazel eyes shot open in recognition. Sweet Jesus on a Harley Davis, I was in  _Percy Jackson_.  
  
...Fuck, I was in  _Percy Jackson_.  
  
....... _Awesome_! I was in  _Percy Jacks --_ waaaaaait a minute.  
  
"Did you say 'Eve Gamble,' and roommate?" I asked awkwardly.  
  
Nancy growled and sighed. "Yes. What is  _wrong_ with you today? I mean, you're weird normally, but this is nuts even for you."  
  
I rushed over to the mirror on the makeup desk and stared. Long, chocolate hair, beautiful hazel eyes, pink blush on the cheeks, lips turned a soft, gel-ish pink from lipstick, and a girl's school uniform. I blinked. The person in the reflection blinked back. I blinked again. She copied me again. Behind me, Nancy Bobofit lifted her eyebrow and stuck her hands in her pockets before collapsing on her bunkbed. "Whatever, bitch."  
  
 _Brain.exe_   _has suddenly stopped working. Reboot? Yes/No._  
  
Yes.  
  
Rebooting...  
  
I screamed.


	3. Nancy Bobofit is Not the Best Roommate

Okay, okay, okay, step one -- don't panic. Step one failed. Step two... what was step two? I didn't have a step two.  _I didn't have a step two_. Step three -- panic some more. At least I was able to pull that one off. Step four --  _Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.  
_  
"YAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!" I howled, punching the makeup desk's oaken surface. My knuckles throbbed, and I rubbed them gingerly in response. In hindsight, perhaps slamming a twelve-year-old, feminine fist into a hard surface wasn't the best of ideas. Then again, I wasn't exactly well-known for my good ideas, and that was  _before_  I was turned into a tween girl.  
  
Tween... Oh, shit. I'm gonna have to go through puberty again, aren't I?  
  
 _I'm gonna have to go through_ puberty _again_.  
  
 _I'M GONNA HAVE TO GO THROUGH_ PERIODS _._  
  
" _ **YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!**_ "  
  
"You done now?" Nancy asked dryly, blowing a pink Double Bubble bubble.  
  
Panting, I clutched my still-aching chest and plopped myself down on the floor. "Yeah, I'm done now. Oh, wait. YAAAAAAAARGH! Okay,  _now_  I'm done."  
  
"So what was that about, weirdo?" the redhead asked casually. She pulled out her cell phone, her thumbs flying over the keys. I blinked at that. Were kids at Yancy Academy allowed to have cell phones? I had no idea. I also had to blink at just how ridiculously crappy the cell phones looked. These were  _not_  your 2017 smartphones, people. "I am definitely texting  _all_  my friends about this, and I'd like some reasons as to why my annoying dormie suddenly freaked."  
  
"You're too young to understand," I quipped, groaning as I picked myself off the floor. Now that I was over freaking out, there was only one thing left to do: head to the bathroom.  
  
"Bitch, your birthday's in  _November_. Mine's in  _June_. I'm way older than you."  
  
I paused with my hand halfway to the door. I was younger than  _Nancy Bobofit_  in this universe!? I threw my hands up to the sky and glared. "Aw,  _what?_ Come  _on_ , seriously?"  
  
"Yes," Nancy drawled. "And, where are you going?"  
  
"Bathroom." I marched out the door. Moments passed, and I poked my head back into the room. "Um, where exactly  _are_  the bathrooms again?"  
  
Apparently the bathrooms were not that far from our dorm room, which was pretty lucky. I hurried across the marble floor of Yancy Academy's hallways and came to a stop at the bathrooms after making one right turn and jogging down the stairs. I definitely didn't trip a couple times due to my misplaced center of gravity. I also definitely didn't use the wall to keep my balance the rest of the way. I did, however, pause and stare at the entrance to the girl's bathroom for about five minutes when I finally arrived.  
  
My skin crawled. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. Dare I step foot in the one place forbidden to all men for centuries? The garden of femininity, the sacred trust of solitude and peace from perverts?  
  
I took a nervous step forward. Every atom in my body screamed, and I stopped.  
  
 _Come on, dude,_ I told myself in a pathetically whiny voice.  _If you don't take this chance now, you'll never be able to do it again!  
_  
My fists shaking by my side, I lifted a trembling foot high into the air. I brought it down hard across the threshold of the entrance, my black school shoes thudding against white-and-blue tiles. Gulping, I lifted my other foot and set it down ahead of the first. Lift, fall, lift, fall. My fists were clenched so tightly that my knuckles were turning white, but at last, a giddy feeling swept over me. I'd done it! I'd  _entered the girls' bathroom!  
_  
I rushed around the corner, skidded to a stop in front of the mirror, shrugged off the straps keeping up the black tank top-ish part of the uniform, and whipped off my baggy, white hand-me-down shirt.  
  
Hazel eyes blinked.  
  
"...This is not as fulfilling as I imagined it would be," I thought aloud, "but I am strangely okay with this."  
  
I wasn't exactly what one would consider  _pretty_. My new feminine body had a pretty average build for being in the tween years. Despite the boring white bra which covered my chest (did my girl side not understand what water and Murphy's Law did to white clothing?), I could tell that her -- no, my breasts were on the smaller side. My hourglass figure wasn't quite defined yet, but it was getting there.  
  
Man. It felt really weird to be thinking those thoughts. Like,  _really_  weird. But, like I'd said, now that my initial freak out was over? Yeah. I was... kind of alright with this. I wouldn't say comfortable -- not by leagues. Just, alright. Adjusted. Honestly, I was just super thankful I hadn't turned out to be Mary Sue-beautiful. That would've made things a  _little_  awkward. Somehow being so average, just like in my past body, made things a little easier to cope with. It was true that I might have to deal with annoying looks from men for the foreseeable future, but that wasn't -- oh, no, wait, I was not tempting fate. No, siree.  
  
Thunder rumbled high above the rooftops of Yancy Academy.  
  
Fuck.  
  
I shrugged my clothes on, my curiosity about my own body satiated. I was just about to step out of the bathroom when I felt a clenching below my stomach that was both familiar and unfamiliar. I froze in horror and  _sloooowly_  turned to look at the bathroom stalls.  
  
Di immortales. How was I supposed to  _do_  this?  
  


~o~  


Nancy Bobofit looked up from her phone, a curious frown on her face as she regarded my disheveled form stumbling into our dorm room. My face was pale, I was clutching my stomach, and my entire body was trembling.  
  
"So, care if I ask what took you an hour in the bathroom?" she asked, line of sight returning to the soft glow of her phone screen.  
  
I shuddered in horror. "A Thing Man Was Not Meant to Know. In every sense of the phrase."  
  
"By the way, I thought you might care to know," Nancy added as I climbed the ladder to the top bunk -- which was apparently mine -- with a nasty shudder, "but I stuffed a lot of your clothes with ketchup sandwiches."  
  
Anger washed over me and caused me to momentarily forget about my horrific attempt at utilizing different plumbing. I lowered my head over the edge of the top bunk to glare down at Nancy, who seemed altogether too pleased with herself. " _WHY!?"_  I demanded, my voice cracking. "Just... why!?"  
  
"Because I was bored."  
  
"Aw, shit, I don't even have a good response to that." I pulled myself up and collapsed in exhaustion on my hard bed, which just an hour before had broken my fall into this messed-up alternate world. "I'm too tired for this bullcrap."  
  
I closed my eyes, thinking about things. If I was forced to be in Yancy Academy with a twelve-year-old Nancy, that meant I was likely supposed to live through the events of at least the first PJO book. But what was I supposed to do? I growled angrily. Everyone knew that messing with prophecies could land you in some serious trouble, and wouldn't avert them anyway. Was I meant to eventually join forces with Percy and the gang? Could I even do anything if I did? Was I human, or was I demigod? Or was I something even stranger?  
  
After some time, I finally rolled over and sighed. First things first -- I was going to have to get those clothes washed now, wasn't I? Yeah, I was. I didn't want to have to spend the entire rest of my school year in white shirts stained with red ketchup. Hopefully Nancy had done it recently enough that I could still bleach out most of the stains. Growling about school bullies and unfair situations, I heaved myself over the edge of the bed, landed badly on my foot again, and limped over to my closet.  
  
Well, I assumed it was my closet, at least. As I'd described earlier, there were only two in the room, and one of them had all sorts of mismatched belongings in it. I was fairly positive the female version of me  _wasn't_  a kleptomaniac, which meant I had the cleaner closet.  
  
At least  _one_  version of me had  _some_  sense of order about their sleeping quarters.  
  
Sighing, I opened my closet and winced at the amount of ketchup stains that were covering the shirts. Yeah, that was a lot of sandwiches. Nancy must've raided the kitchen for all of this. I grabbed all of the shirts that were stained, shook out the sandwiches that were somehow lodged into them, and strode out of the room after gaining directions to the school laundry. I hummed something inspiring to myself, one of my favorite tracks from  _My Hero Academia_. Music always helped keep my mind off things when they went badly, and it was no different here. The music helped calm my nerves, though my anger and annoyance at Nancy and at being in this whole situation in general weren't quelled very much.  
  
Actually, the closer I walked to the laundry room, the angrier I found myself getting, despite the music.  
  
I'd been taken unwillingly from my home. I'd lost the ability to see my family again, unless they were somehow still existing in this alternate world. And I hadn't even met the person or thing that had done it all. Hell, I hadn't even been told what it was that I was supposed to  _do_ here! Was there some divine task assigned to me? Or were the gods just bored and decided to pull me here for fun, like Nancy with her sandwiches? Was it even the gods who had brought me here?  
  
I had millions of questions and not a single answer, and I was  _pissed_.  _Off.  
_  
Upon finally reaching the laundry room, I noticed that there was a group of four girls, all wearing the same uniform as me, waiting inside, around the lines of washers and dryers. I spared them a frown as I walked by and shrugged my gaggle of stained shirts into a more comfortable spot over my arm. I opened up an empty washer, dumped my load inside it, added some bleach, and set it to wash them. I waited impatiently, all the while feeling the girls' eyes on me.  
  
"So, Eve has finally snapped, has she?" one of them (I had no idea who) snickered behind my back.  
  
Nancy Bobofit's statement came back to mind:  _I'm definitely texting all my friends about this.  
_  
I was gonna kill her.  
  
There was a chuckle from a different girl -- a higher-pitched voice, a crueller voice. "Yeah, but I mean, it's not like we all didn't see it coming. She got in here because she kept claiming that she saw monsters everywhere, after all. It was only a matter of time."  
  
"Yelling her head off like a lunatic," giggled someone else. My shoulders shook. "Must have been so  _scary_ , seeing ghosts and goblins in her dorm room."  
  
I unclenched my fist long enough to grab some of my shirt and scrunch it up inside my hand. What had Eve gone through in her past life? I had no idea, but hearing these girls make fun of her like this -- make fun of  _me_  -- was setting my blood to boil. And furthermore, was Eve an actual person or were these all just memories created by the Mist?  
  
I calmed down somewhat. Yeah, that was probably it. It was like that thing with everyone forgetting about Mrs. Dodds when Percy decapitated her in canon -- I'd bet that these memories everyone has of Eve are just false ones conceived from a prehistorical magic.  
  
Beyond the laundry room, I heard footsteps and two boys talking. Some of the footsteps were off-beat, like the person making them was limp or something.  
  
"If I were her," someone said, "instead of being insane all my life, I'd have just jumped off the nearest rooftop."  
  
I gritted my teeth. That was  _it_.  
  
"You know, telling someone to commit suicide is a federal offense," I growled, turning around and glaring at the four girls who had been laughing behind my back. They smirked at themselves and rolled their eyes, and my eyes narrowed. "I'd suggest that next time, you think before you speak. If I actually were to jump off a rooftop, you'd be thrown in jail."  
  
One of them, a brunette with a freckly face and a mean smile, shook her head. "I'm afraid not, Monster Whisperer. See, I didn't actually tell you to do anything."  
  
My fists shook. "You were clearly insinuating it," I hissed. I was so fed up with everything that I couldn't stand it.  
  
"What are you gonna do about it, freak?" one of the brunette's friends, a tall blonde, asked cheekily.  
  
I glowered at them, and started to raise my fist, but I hesitated. Was I really about to punch these people? They were just bullies. They didn't deserve my time of day. They were just human, and humans are mean to each other. It's just a natural law of the universe. Besides, most of my rage wasn't even directed at them.  
  
I lowered my fist, disgusted with myself as much as them, and turned to glare daggers at my washing machine. "Just leave me alone."  
  
The footsteps from earlier drew close and louder. "Is everything alright here, girls?"  
  
Blinking, I raised my head to look at the entrance to the laundry room, where two kids who were about my new age stood with passive expressions. One of them, the boy with the crutches, had acne and just a few whisps of hair on his chin. He looked nervous, and his lower lip was trembling, but he was resolute as he frowned at the girls who'd been trying to egg me on. He had a baseball cap on his head. Beside him was a boy with a Mediterranean complexion, who would've looked pretty plain had it not been for his unkempt hair, which looked rather strikingly like a surfer's, and his sea green eyes.  
  
My eyes widened.  
  
Beside me, the girls hesitated and looked at each other. Even though Percy and Grover, because that's who these boys  _had_  to be, looked pretty weak at the moment, it was clear my bullies liked doing their thing more when other people weren't around. They paused, exchanged looks, and all herded out the door past Percy and Grover.  
  
"We're fine, punks."  
  
"Beat it, Enchilada Boy," the brunette snarked, shoving Grover into the side of the entrance.  
  
He bleated in surprise, and my back stiffened. Dear Lord, that sounded  _exactly_  like a goat. I stared as a furious Percy turned swiftly to her. "Hey, watch where you're going!" the son of Poseidon growled.  
  
"Sorry." She didn't sound sorry.  
  
"It's alright, Perce," Grover reassured his friend as he stood up straight. "She didn't hurt my leg."  
  
Percy's fists lowered. I hadn't even realized he'd raised them. "Oh. Alright, then." The duo turned to me as the quartet of bullies at last vanished from sight. "Hey, there, Eve. You alright?"  
  
I blinked. "You know me?"  
  
"Um..." Percy's brow furrowed. "Kind of? I mean... I think I've seen you in class before, but... I don't know?"  
  
"Wow, great answer," I said flatly. Grover studied me carefully.  
  
"I've never seen you around," he said slowly. "Who are you?"  
  
"Evan --" My voice caught, and I paused, leaving only the slight whirring of the washing machine in the background. That wasn't quite right anymore, was it? The undercover satyr raised his eyebrow as he caught my slip-up. "Er, Eve Gamble." I stuck out a hand. "Nice to meet you."  
  
Grover studied my hand and looked from it, to my face. His nose twitched, and I realized he must have been sniffing to gather my scent. Oh, yeah, that's right! If this was before the museum field trip, then he would've known there was a monster in the school, but had no idea who it was. My face paled for a moment. Oh, crap. It was obvious now that the Mist was messing with people's memories of me, but as a satyr who knew about all of this, he wouldn't have been affected by it like Percy was. I was sure that he was thinking  _I'm_ the monster.  
  
"Grover Underwood," Grover said, very uncertainly, as he slowly accepted my handshake. "Nice to meet you, too."  
  
Percy grinned and shot me a winning smile as he firmly shook my hand after Grover. It was a much more confident and friendly shake than Grover's had been. "Percy Jackson. Give us a shout if those girls bother you again."  
  
"Uh, thanks," I said intelligently as my childhood hero grinned, waved, and pulled his best friend back out into the hall.  
  
I swallowed nervously as Grover's studious gaze didn't leave me until they were around the wall.  
  
Oh, yeah, that satyr didn't trust me. He didn't trust me in the slightest.  
  
 _Greaaaaat_.


	4. I Have Fury

It turned out that the day of the week I'd fallen into the Percy Jackson world on had been a Sunday, which was different from that same day back in my world. I found this out after I went to bed that evening. That had taken a whole lot of staring up at the dark ceiling to accomplish, but somehow I'd managed it. Luckily, I didn't have any demigod dreams. Or perhaps, I should've said unluckily? After all, since I  _definitely_  knew about the world of gods and monsters, if I'd become a demigod upon falling into Yancy, I should have started getting demigod dreams. But since I didn't, that was a definite clue pointing towards me being a mortal. Which was obviously less than ideal for a number of reasons.  
  
I digress.  
  
Nancy Bobofit woke me up by blowing a fog horn right in my face. "Get up, loser, classes start in ten minutes."  
  
Blearily, I sat up stiffly and glared through my tired, hazel eyes at my bully of a roommate. She grinned and waved the fog horn in front of my face like a pendulum, moving it away from my hand quickly before I could snatch it away. I groaned. Then I realized that yesterday hadn't been a dream, and groaned some more.  
  
"First of all, I'm gonna seriously get you for yesterday," I snarled, taking the ladder to the floor (I didn't want to twist my foot  _again_ ). "Second of all, why did you wake me up only  _ten minutes_ before classes? And third of all, GIVE ME THAT DAMN FOG HORN!"  
  
Nancy deftly dodged my attempts to steal the fog horn from her. She leaped to the side as I jumped up to try and snatch it from her hands, and I tripped over her foot, faceplanting into the soft yellow carpet. She chuckled, twirled the fog horn around her finger (how was she even  _doing_  that?), walked over to her closet, and stuffed the noisy object right deep down into her pile of random crap. I wilted as I scrambled to my feet. Yeah, there was  _no_  way I was digging around in that mess for a dumb little fog horn.  
  
"First of all," she said in a high and altogether  _bad_  impression of my new voice, "in your dreams, second of all, because no makeup can improve your looks, and third of all, nope. See ya in homeroom with Mrs. Dodds!"  
  
My jaw hung open in disbelief as she swaggered out the door, snickering to herself.  
  
"How much of a bitch can one person  _be_?" I asked nobody in particular at last. Man, this school year was going to  _suck_. Groaning to myself about unbearable jerkasses, I pulled off the * _shudder_ * lace-lined, pink pajamas that I'd found in my closet and pulled on one set of my school uniform. It was only when I was half way out the door, with seven minutes remaining, that I realized I had no idea where Mrs. Dodds's classroom was.  
  
Oh.  _Crap_. I  _really_  did not want my first experience with the literal Math teacher from hell to be me running late.  
  
Luckily, I found someone in the halls who knew the way, and following their directions, I raced as fast as my current mobility in my new body would allow. I managed to sneak into class and plop down in my seat seconds before the bell rang. I probably looked like crap. My long, flowing hair was still disheveled from my restless slumber, I still had eye boogers that I hadn't quite yet blinked away, my face was kind of broken out, and I was squirming in my seat because I hadn't gotten the chance to go to the bathroom.  
  
Mrs. Dodds narrowed her eyes at me as the bell rang mere moments after I sat down in the only empty desk in the classroom -- clearly mine. No recognition gleamed in those eyes, but something else about her was strange: namely, everything. Her skin was leathery and her feet were like a bird's, with nasty talons sticking out of the toes which were so sharply pointed they looked like they could pierce bones. Attached to her arms were dark wings that reminded me of a vampire's, and her hair was black and scraggly. One long tail curled out from her back.  
  
I drew in a sharp intake of breath, my eyes widening and my face paling. I looked around at the other students in the room desperately -- didn't they see this!? Percy was just grinning and waving at me, and Grover only eyed me nervously. All of the other students were regarding Mrs. Dodds normally, like she was just another person and not a Greek monster. Dammit, the Mist was  _strong_  stuff... but then, if I  _was_ human, why was I seeing through it more clearly than even Grover?  
  
Something here was off. Something here was very,  _very_  off.  
  
"As you all know," said the demon from behind a podium at the front of the room, "today is the day of our field trip to the Metropolitan Museum of Art."  
  
Percy perked up and looked at Mrs. Dodds with probably the most attention he'd ever looked at her with before. He didn't say anything, however. He'd probably learned not to talk over demon Math teachers, even if he hadn't yet learned she was a demon.  
  
"You all should have gotten your permission slips signed and turned in by now," she continued, "and from what I see..." She reached into her desk, pulled out a black binder, and flipped to some random page. Her eyes roamed down it, and then she looked back up to me. They narrowed further. Her head tilted back down to the binder, and again up to me.  
  
Sweat rolled down my forehead.  
  
"You all have done so," Mrs. Dodds finished at last, stuffing the binder carefully back in her desk. She didn't break her gaze from me. I swallowed nervously. Just like Grover before her, this Fury  _knew_  I wasn't meant to exist in this classroom. My body trembled, and every cell screamed at me to get up and  _run_. But I was too afraid even to do that. This woman's true form was terrifying to look at in real life.  
  
Mrs. Dodds then went over some more rules and regulations -- the basic field trip procedure. Be polite, don't touch anything you're not supposed to, no food or drink on the bus, don't annoy the driver. My eyes fell upon Nancy Bobofit at those last two points. She was leaning back in her chair with her feet resting against her desk, using her bubble gum to blow bubbles without a care in the world. I did notice that she discreetly flipped me off when I turned my gaze back to the demon teacher, however. Of course, Mrs. Dodds didn't bat an eye.  
  
I took a deep breath and calmed my nerves.  _It's alright, Evan... er, Eve. Calm down. At least you don't have to deal with Trump's presidency anymore._  
  
As per the teacher's instructions, after she was done talking, we got up and waited at the entrance of the Academy for our bus. It arrived a minute later... pretty good timing, I'd say. I remembered my school's buses always arriving at least three minutes late for our activities, but whatever. Chiron joined the group just before the bus showed up. Everyone piled onto the bus, with Mrs. Dodds ushering us all in and looking like she'd much rather be at an all-you-can-eat buffet, with demigods as the food. Despite the nasty image of people getting eaten, that thought had made me realize how hungry I was. It was around eight o'clock, and I'd missed breakfast.  
  
My stomach growled, and I slumped over in my seat. "At least I didn't get dropped in some world without McDonald's, like  _One Piece_ ," I told my stomach.  
  
I don't think it was very comforted.  
  
Percy, who sat in the aisle seat across from me with Grover to his right, blinked and looked at me. "What?"  
  
"Nothing," I said quickly with a wince. I hadn't realized I'd actually said that aloud. Whoops.  
  
Percy shrugged and turned back to chat with Grover about Chiron's next pen-to-sword quiz.  
  
How had I manipulated things so that Percy and Grover sat next to me, you ask? Upon the bus arriving, I'd shoved my way to the front of my new class. I wanted to be sure to sit down near two of the heroes of the book, for several reasons. I wanted to be able to try and help them when Nancy inevitably threw PB&J's at the back of Grover's head; I wanted to be somewhat protected if Mrs. Dodds and her scathing glare tried anything on me; and really I wanted to just sit by two of my childhood heroes. Even if one of them didn't trust me in the slightest.  
  
I really needed to fix that.  
  
New York City traffic was just as bad as I remembered, even at eight in the morning. The streets were clogged and everything was moving slower than molasses. I had a funny joke about molasses -- no, no, get back on track. Anyway, everyone was getting more than a little impatient as we crawled along the streets and roads. Bored, I decided to bite down and strike up a conversation.  
  
"So, um, Percy?" I said nervously. Dammit, I was never good at knowing what to say to people I'd only just met.  _Especially_  when this person was Percy Freaking Jackson. "Grover?" They turned to me curiously, and I paused, swallowing. "Thanks... Thanks for trying to help me out back there. It was fine already... but I appreciate your help."  
  
Grover frowned. "It's... no problem," he said. Yeah, he still didn't trust me.  
  
Percy shrugged. "Felt like the right thing to do," he reasoned. "So, anything you looking forward to on this field trip, Eve?"  
  
 _Decking Nancy Bobofit in the face for you if she pelts Grover with PB &J's_, I thought. "No, nothing really. I think I've been to the Metropolitan before. I forget, though. I've vacationed here in New York several times, and they all kinda blended together."  
  
"I know how that feels," Percy sighed. "ADHD sucks."  
  
"ADD here," I said, jabbing my thumb at myself. "Apparently I'm not hyperactive enough to add an H in."  
  
"No kidding?" Percy chuckled.  
  
Grover narrowed his eyes. "You said you'd vacationed here in New York before? So, the city isn't your home, then?"  
  
"Er..." Crap. I realized I had no idea about what Eve's past was supposed to be.  
  
Percy snapped his fingers. "Ah, now I remember!" he said suddenly. "I remember seeing you on the first day with introductions! You said that... um... you came from Ohio?"  
  
"Yeah..." I said slowly. That was right, for sure, but how had Eve ended up here, then? I was just gonna make something up off the top of my head and roll with it. Memories of things Nancy's friends had said in the laundry room came to mind. "For some reason, I can't help but see monsters everywhere. It terrified me, and my parents had been beside themselves trying to figure out what to do. A friend of a friend of a friend mentioned Yancy and its good reputation with 'troubled kids.'" Here, I made air quotes with my fingers. "And the rest, as they say, is history."  
  
The sea god's friend blinked as something dawned on him. He leaned over Percy. "Do you see any monsters now?" he asked under his breath.  
  
Percy frowned at him. "Hey, what? I thought you were better than that. Don't tease the poor girl about it."  
  
"I'm not!" Grover blushed. Okay, I will admit it. The goat boy was cute when he was embarrassed, in the way that a little kid is cute when they're pouting. "It was an honest question!"  
  
"It's fine, Percy," I said quietly, leaning across the aisle. Thoughts bounced around in my head. Could I prevent Percy from beginning to realize who he was, and keep him safe for a little while longer? I pointed up the bus to where Mrs. Dodds, the bat-winged monster, sat. "Her."  
  
In spite of what he'd just said, Percy cracked a smile. "I always knew she was inhuman," he quipped, and Grover smacked him lightly on the head.  
  
"Not funny, dude." Grover turned back to me carefully. "What do you see when you look at her?"  
  
I opened my mouth --  
  
 _SPLAT_. My head jerked forward in surprise as I felt something soft and squishy smack into it. I quickly reached up and grabbed the offending object as it fell, and growled. It was a PB &J sandwich. Percy frowned at the torn off piece of food in my hand, and we both turned around. Two seats back from the demigod and satyr sat Nancy, who was grinning cheekily at me. Her hand flashed in an arc--  
  
I ducked quickly. Another piece of PB&J splatted into the window. I glared at her, dropping the piece of sandwich I was holding on the floor and running my non-dirtied hand through my hair. Blast it all, now I had flicks of peanut butter in my hair.  
  
"No food on the bus, Nancy," I said with a glare.  
  
She smirked. "What are you gonna do about it, bitch?"  
  
"Hey, watch it!" Percy said. "She's your roommate! Shouldn't you at least be nicer to her?"  
  
"Nope." Nancy popped the 'p.'  
  
Sea green eyes flashed with annoyance, and Percy growled under his breath, "I'm gonna punch her."  
  
"Don't!" Grover yelped, pulling his friend back down. The boy had been standing up, getting ready to go back there and deck the bully. "Mrs. Dodds will be furious."  
  
Furious. How ironic. In spite of everything, I snorted. I always did love a good pun, even if it was an accidental one. "You're a pretty funny guy, Grover," I said mirthfully, the humor making me forget my anger towards Nancy. I faced forward again and slumped down below the back of my seat to avoid being an easy target. Unfortunately, this left Grover open to the next piece of unusual ammunition. He followed my example along with Percy.  
  
"What do you mean?" asked Grover, genuinely confused.  
  
I looked back at Mrs. Dodds. "Bat wings. Leathery skin. Big tail. Humanoid. Looks like she never got out into the light. She kinda looks like a demon."  
  
Grover's and Percy's eyes followed my gaze. Percy blinked. "Nope, sorry. I still see a Math teacher."  
  
"Yeah," Grover said, confused. "And what does that description have to do with puns...?" He blinked, and then his eyes widened in sudden terror. "Wait..." He looked at Percy and immediately closed his mouth, his face like a ghost's.  
  
I sighed inwardly in relief. Thank the gods, he understood. Maybe now he could get Chiron alone and talk over it with him, and then take care of Mrs. Dodds quietly without Percy ever getting pulled away from the main group. And maybe I was also far too optimistic about my future-changing abilities. Yeah, the latter option was far more likely. Still, though, if it meant keeping Percy safer, this was the far better option. Hell, if his status as son of Poseidon was kept secret longer, Hades might not even send the Minotaur after them -- Percy's mom might not be captured!  
  
Or I could fail altogether.  
  
Yeah, there was also that very high possibility. I very sincerely hoped Murphy's Law did not pride itself on being a large playing factor in this world.  
  


~o~

  
Spoiler alert: It did pride itself on that, apparently. And very, very highly so at that.  
  
Percy failed on Chiron's pop quiz as expected. I took pity on him and covered for him, answering the question about the origin of the gods with flying colors. Chiron's eyes were on me the whole tour; Grover had evidently warned him about me yesterday, and he hadn't had any time to update his opinion to the wheelchair bound centaur. Therefore, the grizzled half-man trusted me even less than Grover had before my talk with him.  
  
A very sarcastic thanks to you, Grover.  
  
The head of Camp Half-Blood was definitely a very cool dude. I could easily see why Percy liked him so much. He was kind and gentle, handling each of the Yancy Academy students with warm care as one might expect a grandfather to do with his grandchildren. Percy was also right about the constant smell of coffee that hung around Chiron omnipresently. One could smell it even from ten feet away. At least it was that, though, and not smoke. I could handle the somewhat pleasant aroma of coffee, but if it had been smoke, I would've likely stayed as far away from the centaur as possible. Nothing against smokers; I just did  _not_  want that stink on my clothes.  
  
Ahem.  
  
After some time, we went on a break from the tour so that we could get lunch, and my stomach growled in delight. I dug around in my pockets desperately, hoping beyond hope that the girl version of me had money on her, and --  _relief_. I pulled out a twenty. Oh, sweet, greasy hamburgers, come to daddy! Er... mommy? Okay, you know what,  _no_. I am _never_  saying that again. That's just... too weird.  
  
I ordered some food from the museum cafeteria. I hadn't even realized that the museum had  _had_  a cafeteria, but I wasn't questioning it. While everyone else dug into their packed lunches that they'd brought, the cheap saps, I chowed down on a very tasty crispy chicken salad.  _Yum_. While I ate, I walked back out the museum to regroup with the other students, and sat down next to Percy on the fountain.  
  
Percy grinned. "You know, I sat here to  _avoid_  contact with other life-forms."  
  
"Earthling, I am here to steal your sandwich," I snarked back, taking another bite of my salad. He smirked back, patting the edge of the fountain next to him. An obvious invitation to scoot closer; I'd sat down about five feet from him.  
  
I scooted closer.  
  
"You wouldn't want my sandwich," Percy told me, unwrapping it and showing me the contents. "Corned beef."  
  
I wrinkled my nose. "Yuck. You're right, I'll pass on that." I looked past him to his other side. Grover was nowhere to be found. "So, Pinky, where's The Brain?"  
  
Percy rolled his eyes. "Grover wanted to talk with Mr. Brunner about something. They're in the museum. I don't know where, though."  
  
I raised my eyebrow at that. I almost asked who Mr. Brunner was, but then remembered that it was Chiron's stage name, so to say. So Grover was actually convincing Chiron about things. They must've re-entered the museum while I'd been ordering my food, though -- I hadn't seen them come in. I looked up at the sky. It looked like a mother of all storms was gonna brew up soon -- damn war between gods. Thinking things over while I ate my salad, I asked him, "So, then, ever read Harry Potter?"  
  
"You think I could read that?" The kid snorted. "Nah, man, I'm dyslexic."  
  
Oh, right, I'd forgotten about that. Man, that would suck. That was another point towards me being a human, though: I'd definitely been able to read all words and lettering I'd come across so far. No headaches or dancing letters at all. Things were not looking up for my chances of survival in this world. I sighed and leaned back as far as I could without falling into the fountain.  
  
"Man, that sucks. You'd probably love it. The main character is kinda like you, actually. He has black hair and green eyes and everything."  
  
"You don't say?" Percy hummed, moving to take a bite of his lunch.  
  
And that was when I felt sloppy, messy spaghetti splatter all over my pants. I gasped in surprise and anger. I stood up so quickly I almost fell backwards into the fountain, and stared furiously at the perpetrator as noodles and sauce slowly slipped off of my pants. "Nancy!" I snarled, setting my plastic bowl of salad on the floor. I stabbed the fork I'd been given by the nice cash register lady in the middle, and stomped forward until I was inches from her face. "Really!?"  
  
"Oops," said Nancy. She grinned a mouthful of braces and annoying self-pleasure.  
  
I saw Percy shaking with anger out of the corner of my eye. I gulped and looked behind me. The water was starting to swirl unnaturally. I glanced back to Mrs. Dodds, who was standing near the Metropolitan Museum of Art's front doors, and who was watching our group carefully. Then I turned back to Nancy and narrowed my eyes.  
  
Okay. I had two options here -- let Percy wash her out, or deck her in the face and stop him from getting attacked by Mrs. Dodds. I knew that from how she'd been looking at me all day, the Fury was very likely to attack me instead if I chose the latter.  
  
I sighed. Gods, my life was screwed.  
  
I punched Nancy Bobofit in the face.


	5. Your Friendly Neighborhood Horseman

Punching Nancy so hard that I broke her nose was very,  _very_  cathartic for all of two seconds. Then my hand smarted terribly, and I pulled back to shake it off with a yelp. I heard Percy gasp, and I looked over to see his jaw touching the floor. Well, not really, but it was hanging so far it might as well have been. The water was also now flowing normally, although the rim of the fountain was now slightly wetter than it had been before.  
  
"You..." Percy searched desperately for words. "You just punched Nancy Bobofit in the face. And broke her nose."  
  
I looked back at Nancy, who was so shocked it seemed like her brain had stalled. Hey, been there, done that, got the T-shirt. Blood ran out of her nostrils, and some of it stained my fingers. I casually wiped this off on my school uniform. "Why, yes, yes it appears I have."  
  
Percy gaped. "Okay," he decided, blinking rapidly, "Eve, you are out of your mind."  
  
"Welcome to Yancy, kid," I said with a shrug. I considered that statement and amended it. "Actually, welcome to New York City."  
  
Unfortunately, I didn't get any further chance to trade sarcastic remarks with my new friend, because I could  _feel_  Mrs. Dodds's glare on me. Nancy also chose that time to shake out of her shocked stupor, clutch her broken nose, and scream. I winced. My poor ear drums! Yes, she was a girl, but did her scream have to be  _that_ high-pitched, especially when it was being done barely a foot from my ears?  
  
"Eve punched me!" Nancy bellowed, her voice warped from lack of a proper nose.  
  
Talons crunched cement as Mrs. Dodds swept over to us, about as calm as your average neo-Nazi. "Eve," she said, the word twisting in her throat in a way that made my spine shudder. This wasn't going to end well. "Come with me.  _Now!_ "  
  
"Wait!" Percy said, leaning forward and reaching out like he wanted to go in my place, but I shook my head.  
  
"You're on probation with the school, remember, Perce?" I said. "Don't try anything. I'll be fine on my own."  _No, I won't. Send help!  
_  
Percy blinked in confusion. I turned and walked up to the demonic form of our Math teacher, not wanting to wait for her to draw closer. If I was going into the lion's den, it would be on my own time! Or something like that. Trembling, biting my lip, I made my way up to Mrs. Dodds, whose stern, terrifying eyes glowered down on me like I was a glass of curdled milk she'd just tried to drink. Nancy looked at Percy, then at me, and finally ran off quickly, rubbing her broken nose and crying like a baby the whole way.  
  
Then again, I would probably have some tears in my eyes if I'd just felt my nose get broken.  
  
"Come with me," said the Fury, and she grabbed my arm so tightly I swear it almost cracked my bone. It took all I had not to scream out in pain, and I limply struggled to keep up with her as she stomped to the museum and yanked me inside it. She took me to the bust of Kronos eating his children, which was ridiculously disturbing, by the way, and shoved me against it.  
  
"Ow!" I cried. "Watch it!"  
  
"Who are you and what are you doing here?" Mrs. Dodds snarled. "Are  _you_  the thief? Or are you an accomplice? Tell me!"  
  
"The thief? Wha--?" It clicked in my mind that she must've thought  _I_ was the one who stole Zeus's bolt and Hades's helm. It only made sense that she'd think that after my sudden appearance, and everyone suddenly gaining false memories of me. She'd probably been itching all day to get me into a position where she could interrogate me alone. Luckily for her, there was no one else in the same room as us in this museum, otherwise she'd be looking like a lunatic. "I never stole anything! If you want a thief, look at Nancy -- she literally got in here for being a kleptomaniac."  
  
She pressed me harder into the bust, and I choked as she bared her pointy teeth. "How do you know that!? You weren't in this school at all until this morning!"  
  
 _Yesterday, actually_ , I thought, but that would've been plain stupid. "I d-don't know what you're t-talking about," I choked out, because I was starting to get really low on air, and her hand against my throat was getting really painful. I clawed at her arm, tried to get it off of me. "P-Please... let me go...!" The Fury didn't like that answer one bit. Instead of letting me go, she squeezed my throat tighter, actually choking me now.  
  
"WHAT HO, EVE!"  
  
I was just about to ask who the hell said 'what ho' anymore in this day and age, but a metallic gleam caught my eye. Shining bronze spun through the air, and my eyes widened in relief. Anakulsmos, better known as Percy's sword, Riptide! I stopped trying to claw at Mrs. Dodds's -- actually, can I call her Alecto now? Would that be alright? I'm gonna say that would be alright and just go with that. -- Alecto's hand and reached an arm out to catch Riptide.  
  
And gasped as the sword stabbed right into my hand.  
  
" **YAAAAA** AAAaaaaaarggggggh..." I cried out, my voice slowly dying as I realized that... I didn't actually feel any pain. Yes, I now had half of a bronze sword blade buried in and through my hand, but it wasn't hurting me. Actually, there wasn't even a drop of blood on the part of the blade that had already pierced through my hand! Alecto, Chiron (who was wheeling himself into the Greek mythology exhibit with our favorite satyr yrotting behind him), Grover, and I all stared dumbly at my hand.  
  
...At least my species was now confirmed. I was still one hundred percent mortal, squishy and easily breakable.  
  
I gulped. As they say in 2017,  _dat's not good_. My survival chances in this world had just got immensely lower, especially since I'd just failed to so much as properly catch the first sword thrown at me. The one thing I seemed to have going in my favor was that I appeared to be one of those rare mortals with the ability to see through the Mist. Like Rachel, or Percy's mom. Sadly, I didn't have a lot of money or the knowledge of how to cook blue food, so I was  _still_  largely fucked.  
  
I looked from the sword in my hand and up to the surprised (and a little confused) Alecto. Then back at the sword in my hand. A smirk turned my lips up, and I hummed, "Ohhh? What's this? Do you need a hand, ya batty freak?"  
  
The Fury paled. She was at point blank range, and she knew it. "Wait...!"  
  
"TOO BAD, SUCKER!" I cackled, thrusting my hand, palm forward, at her, and the pointy end of the sword, stabbed her through her eye before she had time to try and block it. I grimaced at that; I hadn't been expecting to make things that grotesque. Anyway, the moment the tip of the wickedly sharp blade pierced through her brain, she burst into dust like a really nasty piñata.  
  
The exhibit was silent as Chiron, Grover, and I stared at the grains of Alecto's remains. That had been... a bit anti-climactic. I sweatdropped, but my attention was drawn away by a suddenly appearing Percy, who had just dashed into the exhibit, panting and sweating.  
  
"There you are, Eve!" Percy gasped, wiping sweat from his brow. "Are you alright? I was worried and ended up following you and Mrs. Dodds in, and then I heard shouting... IS THAT A SWORD IN YOUR HAND!?"  
  
I blinked. "Um... yes?"  
  
"WHAT!? WHY!? HOW!? And where's Mrs. Dodds!?"  
  
I ignored him. My head tilted back up to gaze at Chiron and Grover, who looked like they didn't quite know whether to jaw drop or facepalm. "I don't suppose you have a janitor handy?" I asked, yanking Riptide out of my hand.  
  
They facepalmed. Chiron then coughed into his fist. "Erm, in any case, Eve, I would like to speak with you alone after the end of classes today."  
  
Crap. That couldn't be a good sign. "Um, okay," I gulped.  
  
"Can we go back outside now?" Grover asked worriedly. "This place feels... uncomfortable now."  
  
"Alright, then. Come along, Eve, Percy."  
  
Swallowing, I jogged to catch up with the satyr and centaur as they turned and started to head back out. Percy hung behind, flabbergasted. He blinked rapidly, rubbed his head, and stared as I jogged past him and tripped thanks to my center of gravity. Blushing, I pushed myself to my feet using the hand not holding a sword in it, and continued after Chiron and Grover.  
  
"Hey, wait up!" he called after us, hurrying to catch up with me. "What the heck's going on, guys? Why was there a lot of dust in front of Eve? Why did she have a sword stuck in her hand, and why wasn't it hurting her? Where's Mrs. Dodds!?"  
  
Hm... should I say something? I probably shouldn't say anything. Fuck it, I'm saying something.  
  
"You'll understand when you're older," I told him.  
  
He desperately wrung his hands through his hair. "Phwah... Wha...? Huh!? That doesn't make any... GAAAAH!"  
  
Heheheh! Kids were so fun to mess with!  
  
The rest of the school day passed without incident. Percy hounded Grover and me for info on Mrs. Dodds and the sword that had been in my hand, but I played dumb under pointed looks from the two secret Camp Half-Blooders. The new math teacher hired from gods-know-what method  _did_ give me detention, which really sucked since that meant I was in trouble on technically my first day of class. Everyone else saw Riptide as a pen save for the still very confused Percy, Grover, and Chiron, and I was able to hand it back to the horseman without any weird looks. After lunch ended, we looked at a couple more exhibits, then headed home to Yancy on the same bus as before.  
  
Chiron had me come with him, alone, to his room once we got back. It was the end of the school day, and therefore I didn't have to return to any classes.  
  
The man wheeled himself into the center of his classroom as I shut his door behind me carefully. My face was pale, and I was a bit sweaty. What did Chiron want? How would I be able to answer him without making him more suspicious?  
  
"Eve Gamble," he said, sounding out my name carefully and tapping his fingers against his armrests. "Who exactly are you?" He looked me directly in my eyes. "Please tell me everything."  
  
My hands trembled. Somehow, this conversation with a nice, coffee-smelling, Latin-teaching centaur was scarier than facing Alecto. Gritting my teeth, I decided to relax myself a little and sit on one of the desks. Not the chair, but the actual schooldesk itself.  
  
My mouth opened, and words spilled out before I could stop them. "I'm a boy from another world where the adventures of Camp Half-Blood and everyone in it over the next four years are chronicled as a fictional book series, and nothing relating to the Greek myths are real," I said. "I don't know why, but yesterday, I was randomly brought from my world to this one. I have no idea who did it or what their intentions for me are," I added, gripping the fabric of my pants, "but I wasn't even originally a girl. I used to be a guy."  
  
Several moments passed. Chiron stared at me. "Well... that's new," he managed at last with a shake of his head. "Still... you punching Mrs. Dodds... she would've tried to attack Percy instead, and you put yourself in his place. That's why you warned Grover about her true nature, right?"  
  
I nodded numbly. Why had I said all that? I hadn't meant to tell him the truth. It had just come out.  
  
Chiron considered that carefully, closing his eyes. He rubbed his beard in deep thought, and I blinked as I realized that was the first time I'd seen someone who actually had a beard -- even if Chiron's was just stubble -- do that. Finally he said, "How would you feel about staying in Camp Half-Blood until at least the end of summer?"  
  
My jaw dropped. I leaned forward so quickly I almost fell off my schooldesk. "What, seriously!?" I demanded, gaping. "Just like that?"  
  
"I'm a good judge of character, and I don't sense any malice or ill intentions from you. Furthermore, if you do happen to have knowledge of future events as you claim to do, then you are going to have many enemies looking to capture you and force you to spill your secrets in the near future. It would be safest to keep you at Camp Half-Blood, out of the way of any greedy monsters, gods, or.." Chiron's brow darkened. "Other things."  
  
I stared for several moments before finally resetting my jaw. I mulled over his offer. It was true -- Camp Half-Blood was definitely the safest place for me to end up right now besides Camp Jupiter, since I currently amounted to an immortal's punching bag. It would also give me the opportunity to escape having to suffer through more school when I'd just graduated high school. Chiron or Grover or somebody could allow me to cross the borders of the camp, like they'd done with Rachel in the books. Furthermore, I could use the extra time at Camp to train in weapons and at least become a little more than an ant in a world of giants.  
  
I licked nervous perspiration from my lips. "I'm in," I said.  
  
Chiron smiled. "I thought you would be," he admitted. "Allow me some time to contact Camp and get someone to bring you there safely. Pack up anything you may have; you'll be leaving very soon. And in the meantime, please remain keeping Percy in the dark about all of this. Monsters will be coming for him soon regardless since he is now twelve, but the less he knows about his identity, the better."  
  
"Of course, Chiron," I said, pushing off the schooldesk.  
  
Chiron smiled again, his stubble twitching up with his mouth and skin. "You are dismissed," he said. "Have a nice evening, Miss Eve."  
  
I sighed in relief. That hadn't been as bad as I'd thought it was going to be. "Thank you, sir," I said gratefully, bowing and making my way back to the door. I opened it and jogged out into the hall, my mind reeling.


	6. Everybody's Got a Water Buffalo

Alone in my dorm room as I waited for my Camp Half-Blood escort, without even Nancy Bobofit picking on me, I stared out the window to the busy street below. Pedestrians swarmed the streets like flies around a UV lamp. Traffic rolled by in inches and centimeters at a time. Everyone waiting impatiently in their cars, or having fun exploring the city, or simply walking up to the nearest Starbucks to grab a quick coffee... It was amazing to me how they had no idea of the realm of monsters and gods that ran directly within their own.  _Ignorance really is bliss_ , I thought, rubbing my neck where Mrs. Dodds/Alecto had choked me against the bust of Kronos eating his kids earlier that day.  
  
It all just felt so  _strange_  to me that I was still only half-convinced it wasn't all just some coma-induced dream. I'd been operating close to normally so far thanks to a mixture of adrenaline, anger, and the excitement of being in one of my favorite worlds. Now, however, five hours after my conversation with Chiron, I'd calmed down, and everything felt different.  
  
Here I'd been tossed into a school in an entirely different, fictional universe -- probably as a self-insert -- and had met Percy Freaking Jackson. Hell, I'd even broken Nancy Bobofit's nose and killed a Fury! And yet, now I was leaving this school behind me without even a single proper class. I'd only barely gotten to know Percy, Grover, and Chiron, but not even close enough that I could call them friends. I still had no idea how to properly function in a girl's body, even if I  _was_ getting slightly more balanced and better at going to the bathroom. And now... now I was going to change my entire life again, this time voluntarily. Now I was going to be the first mortal to enter Camp Half-Blood in gods know when.  
  
I placed my palm, the one that had been impaled by Celestial Bronze that morning, gingerly on the window pane. It must be nice to live unaware of the forces that literally hovered in the sky above everyone. It must be nice to not have to be questioning your religious beliefs thanks to now being stranded in a world where mythology was alive and kicking.  
  
I heard a knock on the door, which I'd closed earlier to give myself some privacy while I packed up the few belongings Eve had in a *shudder* pink suitcase. I'd also used the time to change into something that would be better for travelling than a school uniform: a leather jacket, a pink shirt, and dark camouflage shorts. I had to hand it to the Mist; it had given my girl side good tastes in clothing. Except for the pink.  
  
"Who is it?" I called out, turning to look curiously at the door. At least this would be a nice distraction from myself.  
  
The smooth, semi-confident voice of Percy came through the other side of the door. "It's me, Percy. Can I come in?"  
  
I frowned and weighed my options. Chiron had said to keep Percy in the dark about everything, but that didn't mean I couldn't talk to or say goodbye to him.  
  
"Go ahead," I said loudly. "Door's unlocked."  
  
The door entered slowly, and Percy slipped through. He didn't close it behind him, but I shrugged that off -- I didn't need privacy at the moment, anyway. I smiled softly at him and sat down on Nancy's lower bunk, patting beside me for him to follow suit. What Nancy wouldn't know wouldn't hurt her. I'd shooed her out of the room while I packed, and since she'd gained a sort of fear of me after the field trip, she'd vacated the premises. The redheaded bully likely wasn't going to be back for a while, too.  
  
"Are opposite genders allowed to be in each other's dorms here at Yancy?" I asked, grinning a small grin.  
  
Percy chuckled and leaned back against the wall. "Nope. But then, punching people in the face isn't allowed, either, and you seemed perfectly fine with doing that earlier today."  
  
"Touché." We both laughed, and I sighed. "Alright, so what brings you to my neck of the woods?"  
  
"I wanted to say goodbye," he admitted. "I heard someone say that you're leaving."  
  
"News already spread that fast?" I blinked rapidly. "Wow. I don't know how many people Nancy told, but I guess the grape vine is a  _ridiculously_ efficient method of transportation."  
  
"So... it's true, then?"  
  
"Yeah. It's true."  
  
We were silent for a few moments, just staring at the mirror on the makeup table in front of us. I still could hardly believe that girl in the reflection was me. It felt unnatural, but at the same time, I didn't really care and was fine with it. Being a girl didn't mean I was any different on the inside, after all. The mixture of opposite feelings was confounding.  
  
"Where are you going to?" Percy asked suddenly. "And why?"  
  
"A sort of... year-long camp," I said evasively. But, crap! What was supposed to be my reason for leaving? Chiron had never told me what to say, so I supposed I was just going to have to make something up on the fly. I said the first thing that popped into my mind (not the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man). "I've been on probation with Yancy for a while, too. Troublemaker, you know? I guess fighting Nancy was the last straw. They would've still kept me for the rest of the year, they just wouldn't have accepted me next year; however, my parents had been getting brochures for this camp for a while, now, and in light of recent events, decided to transfer me there."  
  
I shot a winning smile at the future savior of Mount Olympus. He looked like he wasn't buying it.  
  
"Riiiiiiight," he said slowly, narrowing his sea green eyes. "Eve, you're a terrible liar. You know that, right?"  
  
I wilted. My mom and dad had told me as much several times before, but I'd been really hoping that wasn't the case. "Yes," I said hollowly. "Yes, I do."  
  
Another couple moments of silence passed before Percy broke them. "How did you know I'm on probation?"  
  
"What?" I turned to him, blinking.  
  
"Earlier, on the ride to the museum. You mentioned how I'm on probation after I said I wanted to punch Nancy. You shouldn't have known that, though. Nobody else except the school staff and Grover do, and we only just really met you yesterday."  
  
Oh, drat. This was a problem. I had no idea how to explain this. "Uh," I said, my smile twitching, "Grover mentioned it when he calmed you down."  
  
"No, he didn't." Just wonderful, now he was even more suspicious. Percy narrowed his eyes, but at last sighed and fell back on the bed. He winced at the uncomfortable stiffness of the mattress.  
  
"Yes, he did," I insisted, sweatdropping.  
  
Percy's frown deepened. "No, he didn't."  
  
"Yes, he did."  
  
"No, he didn't."  
  
"No, he didn't.  
  
"Yes, he did... wait, what?" Percy blinked, then rolled his eyes. "You're not gonna trick me into changing my mind just because of a little game like that."  
  
I sighed. "It was worth a shot."  
  
"So how did you know?" he prodded, and I groaned. Letting him in had been a bad idea after all. What was I supposed to say now to convince him that my knowledge of his probation was for some mundane reason? Gah, all this was making me really nervous! Wait... Percy had said that the faculty members all knew, right? Aha! A solution!  
  
"I accidentally overheard the teachers talking about it," I said quickly.  
  
Percy raised an eyebrow. "...Seriously? That's all?" I nodded, and he blinked. "Well, I... I don't know what I was expecting. Something different, I guess. What do you know about Mrs. Dodds?"  
  
Caught off-guard by the sudden change in topic, I started to say, "She alm --" Then I froze and paled. I'd almost let him realize that she was real. I didn't want to get on Chiron's bad side, so that was a definite  _no go_. "She's never worked here as far as I know. Sorry, Perce, Mrs. Kerr has always been the Math teacher."  
  
But Percy had caught my slip-up. I had to give credit where credit was due; Annabeth was right, this boy was much smarter and more attentive than he let on. He sat up quickly again, eyes wide. "You started to say something different there!" he exclaimed. "So then you know she's real, too! Ha! I  _knew_  you and Grover were lying!"  
  
"Sorry, but what?" I said, my smile twitching. Crap, crap, crap! This wasn't going well! "I don't even know how to spell the word 'Dodds' -- where did you get that, some fantasy book or something?"  
  
"Yes, because I pulled a name from something that I can't even read," Percy deadpanned.  
  
I flinched. "Oh. Point taken."  
  
"So, tell me then!" Percy demanded, literally on the edge of his seat. He was so damn eager for information that he was practically beside himself. It must have been such a confusing day for him. I had to pity him, suddenly finding out that the evil Math teacher he'd had up til then had been replaced altogether, and only he seemed to have memories of her. He had to have been so ridiculously confused.  
  
I couldn't meet his gaze. I looked aside and started to open my mouth, but was saved by another knock on the door.  
  
"I'm Charles Beckendorf, here to escort Eve Gamble to Camp Half-Blood," someone said, and both Percy and I looked at the doorway to see a tall African American kid with black hair and brown eyes. He was  _ripped_ , like he spent all day working out in the gym. He looked like he was only thirteen or fourteen, and he had a kind smile. He wore a blacksmith's apron, with several pouches strapped around his waist and stomach. Underneath the apron he wore an orange Camp Half-Blood T-shirt, though the lettering was hidden behind the apron. He put his right hand on his waist and leaned against the door with his other arm. "Are you Eve?" he asked, motioning to me.  
  
"That's me," I said reluctantly after a confused pause. I was still trying to get used to reacting to the name  _Eve_  instead of  _Evan_ , but my brain was handling this slowly. "I didn't expect you to arrive this soon."  
  
Beckendorf shrugged. "Yeah, well, time waits for no man," he said. "Chiron said that you'd be in this room, and it wasn't that hard to find it once I got here." He raised his eyebrow at Percy. "Who's your boyfriend?"  
  
"He's not my boyfriend!"/"She's not my girlfriend!" we both said, blushing.  
  
Percy scooted a little bit away from me. "Who's Chiron? I swear I've heard that name before..."  
  
"Must be the head of the camp," I said quickly with a falsely confused shrug.  
  
Two blinks later, Beckendorf exited to the hallway and motioned for me to follow suit. "Well, whatever. Come out when you're ready. It'll be getting dark here, soon, and this city is...  _dangerous_  at night."  
  
I took a deep breath and got up from the bed, giving the dorm room one last look. I wasn't particularly fond of it; I'd had no time to grow attached to it. But still, it felt strange to be leaving it so soon after I'd arrived in it. And furthermore, it represented the last time I would ever lead anything close to a normal life again, for the foreseeable future. I  _was_  attached to my previous mundane life, hence the last look. Sighing, I made my way over to my *shudder* pink suitcase and pulled up the extendable handle to a height at which I could easily pull it.  
  
Percy walked over to me and put his hands in his pockets. "You mind if I go find Grover, and we walk you guys out of the school?" he asked.  
  
I thought about that. "No, I don't," I said with a smile. "That would be nice."  
  
"Great!" He started jogging out of the dorm, grinning. "Then you guys wait up for us!"  
  
It took Percy only a few minutes to find Grover and bring him back to my dorm, where Beckendorf and I were waiting patiently in the hall. An iPod had been included in Eve's belongings, and I had to wince at first at how medieval it looked compared to my day's technology. I put earphones in and turned on some Maroon 5, however, grateful once again for "Eve's" (read: the Mist's) good taste, this time in music.  
  
"Alright!" Beckendorf grinned and clapped his hands. "Now that the gang's all here, let's head out."  
  
"And look for clues?" I asked with a grin while the  _Songs About Jane_  album played softly in my ears.  
  
Grover blinked. "What clues would we be looking for?"  
  
"In your case," said Percy with a knowing smirk, "an enchilada."  
  
I snickered and high-fived the boy. Beckendorf shook his head bemusedly.  
  
Walking through Yancy's halls for the last time again felt strangely non-nostalgic. I felt like I should've been missing at least some aspect of the school, but as I mentioned earlier, I just hadn't had enough time to get to that point. By the time we finally reached the front doors, Percy and Grover shoving each other around good-naturedly, I'd gotten from  _Harder to Breathe_  to the beginning of  _Shiver_.  
  
"I guess this is it, guys," I said with a nervous breath. I turned to Percy and Grover, who both looked a little disappointed to see me go, though Grover, who I'd spoken with less than Percy, wasn't as disappointed as his demigod.  
  
"You have a safe trip to the camp," Grover told me seriously, holding out his hand for a handshake. I shook it firmly. He winced and flicked his hand once I let go. "Ow! You shake  _hard!_ "  
  
"I try."  
  
"See ya, Eve," Percy said, a little sadly. "I wish you could've hung out with us some more." He shook my hand, too, wincing but showing no other signs of pain otherwise. Shame, I'd tried to purposefully shake his harder than I had with Grover. "If you have any time, you should come over to my mom's apartment and hang out with me when school's out." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper with an address on it, and handed it to me. "That's where we live."  
  
"Thanks, Perce," I said with a smile, and I meant it. It meant a lot to me that he was willing to be so friendly with me even though he'd caught me in my lies and hadn't known me for very long.  
  
We stood there smiling at each other like idiots for a few moments until Beckendorf cleared his throat.  
  
"Alright, then, let's get going, Eve," he said, and he started walking towards the doors. "We have a fair bit of ground to cover before we reach Camp."  
  
"Lead the way, cap'n," I said sagely, and trotted behind him, pulling my suitcase across the floor as we went.  
  
Percy and Grover didn't stop waving until we'd left their sight. I knew because I had my head turned just enough to see them as long as possible. I had to grin to myself as Beckendorf and I merged into the rest of the city pedestrians. They were good people, that demigod and that satyr. I'd eagerly await their own return to Camp Half-Blood. Until then, though, I wanted to know just how we were getting to Long Island.  
  
"By taxi," Beckendorf said after I asked him such.  
  
I couldn't help but stare. "...By taxi?"  
  
"Yep." He tilted his head at me and raised an eyebrow. "Did you expect something different?"  
  
"I... um..." My face twitched. "Kind of?"  
  
"Well, sorry, Eve," he said, actually sounding very apologetic. "We do things as normally as we can outside Camp Half-Blood, so that the mortals don't suspect anything..." He winced and rubbed the back of his head. "Er, sorry. No offense."  
  
I waved it away. I knew I was a squishy human and I was... not exactly proud of it, but I liked being who I was. "None taken."  
  
"I assume Chiron filled you in on what exactly we are?"  
  
 _Well, no, he didn't, but he didn't need to_ , I thought.  _Because I already know. Not that you need to know that, of course_. "Yeah, he did," I lied.  
  
"Alright, good. That makes things easier, then." A yellow taxi cab rumbled down the street towards us, and Beckendorf and I shoved our way through the pedestrians to the edge of the street. Beckendorf raised his hand, and the taxi stopped in front of us. The taxi driver, a short Chinese man (stereotypes,  _really?_ ) got out and opened the trunk for me, and I shoved my suitcase inside. We then hurried into the back seats. Beckendorf reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of ones and a couple tens while the driver closed the trunk and ran to hop back in the driver's seat. "Take us to Half-Blood Hill, Farm Road 3.141, Long Island."  
  
The driver closed his door, reached up to a GPS on the dash, and punched in the address. He frowned at the screen. "You sure, son? It don't look like there's nothing there 'cept wilderness."  
  
The driver's accent was grating, and I shook my head.  
  
"I'm sure," Beckendorf said. "And don't call me  _son_ ," he added under his breath.  
  
The driver shrugged. "Whatever. It's yer money yer wastin'." He pushed the car into drive and sped forward back into the traffic, which had actually cleared up some. It wasn't  _good_  traffic, per se, because this was New York City; but it was at least decent. I was on  _She Will Be Loved_  by this point, and humming along to the amazingly awesome music. Seriously, I swear that Adam Levine had to be a son of Apollo or something. If I ever saw the god of music, I was going to seriously ask him about that.  
  
We slowly weaved and maneuvered through the gridlocks. There was road construction on Third Street -- the taxi driver said something about the crazy weather lately having ripped up some of the road -- and so we had to detour around it. We ended up going past the Bronx Zoo, which I gazed out at as we went by.  
  
"Never been to the zoo before?" Beckendorf guessed, noticing my stare.  
  
I shrugged. "I've been to the Central Park Zoo and the Cleveland Zoo. Not the Bronx Zoo, though. Up here this far in Manhattan is new territory for me."  
  
Strangely, in the distance, I thought I could see a giant, brown figure over the zoo walls. When I blinked, however, I didn't see anything. Still, though... I could've sworn I'd seen horns. A chilling cold that had nothing to do with the taxi cab's air conditioning made me shiver. "Um, are there bulls at the Bronx Zoo?"  
  
"I dunno." The Hephaestus cabin counselor's brow furrowed, and he looked funny. He patted the driver's seat. "Sir, are there bulls in that zoo back there?"  
  
The driver hummed in thought and honked furiously at a very slow Corvette which he was passing. "GET OFF YER DAMN CELL PHONE!" he hollered, regardless of the fact that both his and the other car's windows were all up. Beckendorf and I jumped. "Can't rightly say," he said back to us. "I've been there once or twice, and I don't  _think_  I've seen any bulls there. Maybe a bison."  
  
"Why were you asking?" Beckendorf queried me.  
  
I sagged in relief. Whatever I'd seen, it was probably a very big bison. "Oh, no reason. Just curious."  
  
The car shook, like the earth was trembling from some large force. "Damn tires need air," the cabbie muttered to himself.  
  
A nasty little voice in the back of my mind whispered that it probably wasn't his tires needing air. I punched it in the face just like Nancy Bobofit and told it that yes, it  _very_  much was his tires needing air, and I didn't want any other reasons. Especially ones involving very large, very powerful, and very heavy Greek monsters.  
  
A few uneventful minutes of our driver passing cars, beeping, and causing a lot of beeps at us passed by.  
  
The car shook again.  
  
"Aw, seriously?" the driver groaned, slapping the wheel. "I  _just_  got those darn things filled up the  _last_  time I went to get gas..."  
  
Beckendorf frowned and leaned forward against his seat belt. "Is it alright if I roll down the window, sir?" he asked kindly. "I think I hear something going on outside."  
  
The driver waved his hand. "Go right ahead, it's a free country."  
  
"Won't be in twelve years," I muttered with furious thoughts of Cheetos and white hoods.  
  
"What was that?"  
  
"Nothing."  
  
The car shook again as the African American teen beside me started to roll down the window, and then we could all hear what Beckendorf had thought he was hearing: distant screaming, and lots of it. The car shook again, along with my hastily constructed confidence in the cause not being what I hoped it wasn't. Beckendorf and I turned around, and that was when we saw it.  
  
It was huge, far over ten feet tall, with muscles like buses. If Beckendorf was ripped, then this thing was motherfucking Hulk Hogan taking Chuck Norris-brand steroids. Seriously, those guns  _couldn't_  be legal. It was covered in brown fur, and I swear fists for nipples would not have looked out of place on this thing. Two white horns rose out of its head dangerously.  
  
Oh, and held high above its head with its enormous meaty hands?  _A tour bus_. A thankfully and somehow empty tour bus, but a  _tour bus_.  
  
Beckendorf and I paled as the  _motherfucking_  Minotaur threw the tour bus across twelve hundred feet of city traffic directly at our taxi cab, frightened mortals running away from the incident and screaming on the sidewalks. Lord knows what they were seeing, but it couldn't have been pretty.  
  
"Meep," I squeaked.  
  
"Oh, Hades," Beckendorf choked.  
  
"GODDAMNED TRAFFIC!" screamed the driver, pressing down on the horn mightily.


	7. We Take a Bull By the Horns

You may be asking,  _“Eve, when faced with a half-bull, half-human monster who was throwing a tour bus at your taxi, what very heroic and very brave action did you take?”_  
  
I have one answer: I screamed like a girl. Granted, I  _was_  a girl, so that wasn’t really as much of a hyperbole as it should have been.  
  
Beckendorf winced and covered his ears as my piercing scream blasted from my vocal chords. The driver growled and turned around to glare at our backs. “WEREN’T YA DAMN KIDS EVER TOLD NOT TO DISTRACT YER DRIVER!?”  
  
“B-B-Buh… B-Buhhht i-it’s the… Mino… Mino…” I stammered, my fear of the beast causing my words to wrap around themselves on my tongue. The tour bus was nearly upon us, now, and Beckendorf gritted his teeth and whirled around to face the Chinese driver with the Southern accent.  
  
“STEP ON IT!” he roared. “I’LL TIP YOU FIFTY DOLLARS IF YOU DO!”  
  
The older man grinned, his squinty eyes getting squintier. “Deal!” he said. He looked back at the road and slammed his foot down on the gas pedal, swerving into the left lane to pass the guy ahead of us. We accelerated so fast that Beckendorf and I jerked back into our seats. My scream was cut off by the small impact, and the fact that I had to breathe.  
  
“WE’RE GONNA DIE!” I sobbed to Beckendorf, tears streaming from my hazel eyes. Back in the right lane, the empty tour bus, a red double-decker, slammed into the street, bounced over five cars, and smashed into a Maserati. The cars both skidded off the road and into the sidewalks, causing terrified pedestrians to dive out of the way as Maserati and tour bus crashed into the side of a random brownstone.  
  
I stared dumbly. “That could have been us,” I whimpered as our driver continued to weave erratically through the traffic. “Thatcouldhavebeenusthatcouldhavebeenusthatcouldhavebeenus!”  
  
“Calm down,” Beckendorf said, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “We’re going to be fine. You already survived a monster attack, didn’t you?”  
  
“YES, BUT THAT WAS WITH A SWORD STUCK IN MY HAND!” I cried. Beckendorf blinked at that. “ _DO YOU SEE ANY SWORDS STUCK IN MY HAND!?_ ”  
  
The dark-skinned man stared. “...Not even going to ask,” he decided at last. “Anyway, this time, you don’t have to do things yourself. Now you have a highly trained son of Hephaestus on your side. It’s going to be alright. I won’t let that thing hurt us.”  
  
“Are you two LARPers or somethin’?” our driver asked, keeping his gaze on the road as he ran a red light and scared a few people crossing the road.  
  
I stared at him incredulously. “Did you not see the tour bus that hit that car?”  
  
“Girlie, what are you smokin’?”  
  
“I don’t smoke!! What the hell would make you think that!?”  
  
“You did say that you’d had a sword stuck in your hand,” Beckendorf pointed out.  
  
“Quiet, you,” I grumbled.  
  
From behind us came the sound of smashing, lots of screaming, and cars crashing into either each other or buildings. Beckendorf and I turned around again to see what was going on, and we paled. The Minotaur had apparently decided that throwing buses at us was too boring, because now it was charging right up the street towards us. Any unlucky vehicles in its way got kicked aside, their drivers fighting and failing to maintain control over the wheel. One person in a white car accidentally smashed through the window of a shop, the glass scattering across the sidewalk.  
  
“So much collateral damage!” I gasped in a small voice.  
  
My escort’s fists clenched. “We have to put a stop to this so that no more mortals get hurt. Hey, driver!” He leaned forward. “Can you find somewhere to pull over as soon as possible and let us out? Then get away as fast as you can and meet us back wherever you drop us off in about ten or fifteen minutes. I’ll add to your tip if you do.”  
  
“Um, okay?” The driver tilted his head. “Weird, but I’m on it, feller!” He immediately swerved into the right lane and almost took out another car in doing so. Some severe honking rose up in our wake. I wept for my life; we’d obviously chosen a very dangerous person to have as our taxi man. After he got in the lane, he pulled as close up to the curb without going over it as he could, and Beckendorf and I rushed out of the car. The driver immediately made a hasty getaway, not questioning the purpose of our demands.  
  
The Minotaur was a mere fifteen yards away now, and the distance was shrinking rapidly by the second. At this rate, he’d be on us in a matter of moments. I looked up nervously at Beckendorf. “I sincerely hope that you have a plan,” I told him, “because otherwise we’re just gonna die here, and I  _will_  haunt you in the Underworld. Even if I’m put in the Fields of Asphodel for annoying everyone by singing  _Frozen_  songs all the time.”  
  
“What’s  _Frozen_?” Beckendorf frowned and shook his head. “Whatever, that doesn’t matter now. I do have a plan, however—you can rest assured on that. I will protect you, Eve.”  
  
“If it helps any,” I said, scooting behind the hero, “he kind of only has one direction: forward. If you can daze him by getting him to run into a wall, you can take him out much easier.”  
  
He hummed in thought. “Thanks for the information. I assume someone fought the Minotaur in one of the books you told Chiron about?”  
  
I sweatdropped. “He let you know about that?”  
  
“Of course. It’d interfere with my mission if I didn’t know as much about you as I could.”  
  
“Point taken,” I sighed. “Wait, that doesn’t matter right now anyway! It’s here!”  
  
And here the Minotaur was. During our little conversation, it had nearly completely closed the gap between us, and the setting sun’s angle cast threw the monster’s huge, inky shadow over us. It loomed above us, more than twice Beckendorf’s height. We both took an involuntary step back. Beckendorf reached into one of the pouches that were strapped around him and extracted what looked like a mechanical spider of sorts, without any eyes. It did have something that looked like a periscope extending from the top of its head, however. Either way, Annabeth would’ve ran screaming from it.  
  
“What’s that?” I asked.  
  
“My plan,” Beckendorf said.  
  
“That little thing?”  
  
The tall man smirked. “Just watch.”  
  
I watched. The moment Beckendorf set his contraption on the ground, the spider darted forward, darting in and out of some random peoples’ feet. The mechanical creature’s periscope-like extension on its head swiveled around and locked on the Minotaur, which paused to glare down at the spider. The huge beast growled and tried to swat Beckendorf’s bot, but it scurried out of the way. When the half-bull’s arm rose back into the air, the spider was aboard it, and the sidewalk was cracked.  
  
Beckendorf’s eyes widened as he looked down at the cement. “...That thing is really strong,” he said quietly.  
  
I nodded meekly.  
  
Meanwhile, the spider continued to scuttle up the monster’s arm to its shoulder. The Minotaur, now completely distracted from us thanks the feeling of eight annoying legs on its shoulder, glared at it and blew actual steam from its big, flat nose. The monster, in full underpants, slammed its right fist on its left shoulder in an effort to squash the human-made bug there. It failed, and only grunted when something loud and painful-sounding cracked; the Minotaur had broken or dislocated its shoulder. My fearful gaze turned into one of admiration as the spider climbed around the Minotaur’s body and made the increasingly angry beast hit itself. It was smaller and had greater mobility, meaning that even though its unhappy host was fast and accurate, it could escape each and every blow.  
  
“Whoa,” I said, staring. “Well… that’s one way to kill a Minotaur, I guess.”  
  
The African American teen chuckled. “That’s not all this thing can do, either,” he said, reaching into the same pouch as before and pulling out a button hooked up to a wireless joystick. “Watch.” He pressed the button, and as I kept a careful eye on the bronze arachnid, some sort of thin, green liquid seemed to be leaking out from where it normally would secret the silk—I couldn’t remember what it was called.  
  
I narrowed my eyes. “What’s it doing?”  
  
“That stuff coming out of its spinnerets?” Beckendorf’s smirk widened. “That’s Greek fire, liquidized. It’s highly volatile and reactive. Once it touches the air, it only takes a short time for it to make like Michael Bay…”  
  
 _BOOM!_  My jaw dropped as green fireballs covered the giant creature. The Minotaur howled, and we grinned. Smoke billowed into the air in amounts that would make the CPA cringe, and I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. Man, that was  _satisfying_ , even though my eyes hurt like hell from staring directly at the explosions.  
  
“Did it work?” I leaned forward, trying to see through the smoke.  
  
Beckendorf frowned. “I don’t know. I didn’t think about how quickly the Greek fire would explode when building the spider, so it may have not gotten enough of the stuff on the monster to kill it.”  
  
Just as the heavily muscled demigod was finishing talking, an angry roar rose up from the smoke, and a limp hand wafted away the remaining air pollute. The Minotaur stood there, panting and looking much weaker, but very much not dead. I squeaked and backed up. This thing was  _tough_. Even worse news for us was the unmoving, broken bronze arachnid clutched in the Minotaur’s left hand. It dropped the spider and punted it so hard that the crumbling contraption flew clear above and beyond the building behind us.  
  
Beckendorf growled. “I spent a month working on that thing,” he grumbled, frowning at the Minotaur. His eyes narrowed as it stomped slowly over to us, its own body half broken from hitting itself and getting exploded at point blank range. “Alright, it shouldn’t take much more to kill it. Have any weapons?” he added.  
  
“Um… no.” I sweatdropped.  
  
He stared. “Chiron forgot to give you a weapon?” Upon my flat look, he sighed and reached into another pouch. “Oh well. Good thing I brought extra.” He immediately withdrew two swords clenched tightly in his hand, which were both at least as long as my body and had absolutely no right to be able to fit in that small tool holder.  
  
I gaped. “H-how…?”  
  
“Perks of being a son of Hephaestus,” Beckendorf chuckled. The Minotaur patted the ground with one foot and leaned forward. “I know how to be as efficient with my storage space as possible. Now, you’re probably going to want to move. It looks like that thing’s  _CHARGING!_ ”  
  
The last part was done as a yelp when the Minotaur suddenly launched itself at us with incredible speed. Beckendorf and I both leaped away with mere inches to spare. The monster raced by like a really mad freight train, almost barreling over some mortals. The commonfolk hauled ass out of Houston and screamed something about a stampeding herd. Our enemy skidded to a stop only a few feet before it slammed into a wall.  
  
My eyes widened. “Beckendorf! Let’s move closer to one of the buildings and get it to charge at us! Then let’s jump away like we did just now!”  
  
“Roger that!” The hero threw me one of the Celestial bronze swords, the shorter of the two, and this time I managed to actually catch it by the pommel and not the blade. It was heavy, but the grip felt much nicer around my fingers than Anaklusmos, and the balance of the weight seemed more attuned to me as well.  
  
“Thanks!”  
  
“Don’t mention it!”  
  
Beckendorf regrouped with me and we ran to put our backs against the nearest wall. The Minotaur was already on our tails, barreling at us with more energy and speed than Usain Bolt. It loomed over us, and my body seized up at first. Then my sense of self-preservation kicked in and like before, I jumped to the side at nearly the last second. But this time, the Minotaur was smarter, and its hand shot out to grasp me and lift me up high. Lightning bolts of pain tore through my body and I tried to scream, but nothing except a dry choke came out. It felt like the very life was being squeezed out of me. Beckendorf saw this and instead of leaping to the side, he ducked and rolled  _under_  the beast’s legs.  
  
My body started to glow bright gold, and I uselessly struggled. No! I refused to be taken to Hades! I wasn’t going to be kidnapped here! I didn’t know what his deal was with me, but I refused to be the plaything of the gods!  
  
“EVE!” Beckendorf roared from behind the Minotaur as we crashed into the wall and it stumbled backward blearily. It gripped me tighter, and I heard a sickening crunch of some bone. Fear and denial rose rampant in my mind, and I desperately struggled to get at least one of my arms free so I could  _kill this thing_!  
  
My body glowed brighter and brighter, and as my vision started to blur I saw my escort leap high into the air, directly at the arm which clutched me tight, and slice down.  
  
“I WON’T LET YOU KILL HER! HYAAAAH!”  
  
 _Air. Breathing._ I fell to the ground, gasping for air as the Minotaur’s hand released its hold on me and I could breathe once more. My body still hurt from having the life literally almost squeezed out of me, but it wasn’t compounding anymore, which was nice. I swore that I heard an annoyed  _Tch_ out of the corner of my ear when Beckendorf dropped his blade and caught me. I had to manually keep my sword from accidentally cutting him. The moment his hands touched my back, my glowing faded away.  
  
“Hah… hah… just… dropping in?” I panted, grinning gratefully at my savior.  
  
He stared. “Really?  _That’s_  what you say after you almost  _die?_ ”  
  
“You don’t know me very well yet, do you?”  
  
After a short pause, he shook his head and grinned. “I guess I don’t. But either way…” He set me down gently on the sidewalk, and picked up his dropped sword. Then he pointed it at the Minotaur and said, “It’s time for this thing to die.”  
  
“Yeah, it’s given us enough bullcrap,” I agreed. Beckendorf snorted. I tried to stand up and winced as a sharp pain blared in my leg. I must’ve cracked one of the bones in it. It didn’t feel or look broken, so that was good, but it was definitely at the very least sprained.  
  
See,  _this_  is why I wish I’d been made a demigod. But  _noooo_.  
  
The Minotaur staggered from both the impact against the brownstone’s wall, which was now cracked like a vertical crater, and the fact that its already self-broken arm was now sliced clean off and turned to dust. It stumbled around almost drunkenly, and Beckendorf walked forward casually. He brandished his Celestial bronze blade out before him. The Minotaur noticed the demigod and pawed the ground angrily in preparation for another charge. It took off at him, but Beckendorf stood still and held his ground. Then, the second that the monster was almost upon him, he swung his sword upwards with impressive speed, and the Celestial bronze stabbed clean through its neck like a knife through butter.  
  
 _POOF._ Bye-bye, Bull Nye. Gross, yellow monster dust was carried off by the wind, never to be seen again. Or at least, not until the Battle of Manhattan, if I couldn’t butterfly that away.  
  
I shot Beckendorf a thumbs-up. “Nice Shoryuken!” I mean, it wasn’t exactly a Shoryuken at all, but he was a heavily muscled guy fighting in the streets, finishing off the battle with an upwards attack, so fight me.  
  
“Shory…” The African American turned towards me, confusion etched across his face. His brow furrowed and he blinked rapidly. “Uh… what?”  
  
“Ah, forget it. Hey, don’t you usually get a  _spoils of war_  or whatever from monsters? So what did you get from beating that thing?”  
  
Beckendorf shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said, and we both looked back to where the Minotaur had last been. And in its place…  
  
Was its tighty whities.  
  
We stared.  
  
Several moments of silence passed.  
  
“OH, COME ON!” Beckendorf complained loudly, while I erupted into a flurry of giggling so hard I almost couldn’t breathe. “How is THAT useful!?”  
  
“Maybe... it’s made out of magic…  _Fruit of the Loo-hoo-hoom!_ ” I chortled, gasping for breath and nearly crying.  
  
“ _It’s not funny!_ ” he protested with a depressed groan.  
  
“It definitely is!” I insisted, wiping tears from my eyes.  
  
Beckendorf groaned and gingerly slipped his sword into the smelly underwear, grimacing as he lifted it up in the air. He sniffed it, and immediately reeled back from it, holding his nose with his free hand and squeezing his eyes shut.  
  
“Oh,  _gods_  does that  _reek_ ,” he announced, and my laughter gained even more momentum. It was actually starting to hurt my chest.  
  
And that, my friends, is the story of how a pair of tighty whities got added to the Big House’s attic.


	8. Mr. D Predicts My Demise

I didn’t stop laughing clear until we’d nearly arrived at Camp Half-Blood. Naturally, our Southern/Chinese taxi driver was not very impressed with this. Neither was Beckendorf, who insisted there was nothing funny about winning underpants from a Minotaur. Beckendorf was obviously that one percent of people. Actually, that was  _me_ , but don’t tell him that I fully admit to that -- I have a reputation to uphold, you know.  
  
“Girlie,” the driver said at last with a very annoyed tone of voice, “I would really appreciate it if ya  _let me pay attention t’the road!_ ”  
  
I immediately stopped laughing to frown at him. “Do  _not_  call me girlie,” I said. I didn’t mind being a girl, not really anymore, but being called  _that_  just did not feel right.  
  
Beckendorf raised an eyebrow. “So  _that’s_ how you get her to shut up,” he said interestedly. I huffed at him, and he shrugged, grinning a small little, victorious grin. “Hey, you  _have_  been laughing a while now. I’m not sorry.”  
  
“Ugh, point taken,” I sighed, rubbing my throat. My intense giggling was actually beginning to hurt my throat, like that annoying scratchy feeling that you get when you sing for too long. I knew  _that_  particular feeling all too well. “It was pretty funny, though, you have to admit it.”  
  
Beckendorf sighed like he was just done. “Okay. Yeah. It’s a little bit funny.”  
  
“A lot bit funny,” I corrected.  
  
“You kids done back there yet?” the driver called back, and as we rumbled up a hill, I spied a single pine tree that had appeared over the side.  
  
My mood immediately dampened. Thalia. It was…  _crazy_  to think that a girl was saved from the brink of death by being changed into a tree. Even as a guy changed into a girl, and as someone who’d read all the Percy Jackson novels, I simply couldn’t wrap my head around it. She’d sacrificed herself by willingly facing at least a hundred of the nastiest monsters in Hades’s repertoire in order to save her three friends. How does one have the guts to do that?  
  
“Thalia’s tree, huh?” Beckendorf had followed my line of sight. “We’re close now. The stories they tell about Thalia, though… I wish I could’ve met her at least once.”  
  
“Yeah…” I frowned sadly. We were both quiet for a few moments, the now melancholic taxi rumbling up the road to Camp Half-Blood like a horse saddened by its master’s emotions. Our silence was extremely awkward, especially in the face of the humor and mirth we’d had up to this point. Then we reached the crest of the hill and popped over it, and the sight that greeted us was a fan blowing away the depressing mist which had fallen over us.  
  
Camp Half-Blood stretched out across the valley on the other side of the hill, nestled between a forest, a lake, the bay and the rolling hills. Arranged in a u-shape were the famous cabins for the twelve Olympians’ children, and they were a magnificent sight to behold. Closer to us sat the Big House, which really did not do it justice _;_ it was  _huge_. Random bursts of fire swept into the night sky off and on, illuminating the treetops in brilliant, flickering orange light. The canoeing lake reflected the night sky like a beautiful blanket with a twinkling constellations design, with a river cutting off us and the Big House from the other half of Camp, which included the forest, strawberry fields, and cabins. Speaking of the cabins, the fire in the center of the “U” was lit, with a whole bunch of shadows that I assumed to be people dancing around it.  
  
“They started the campfire without us?” Beckendorf groaned. “Great, that means there will be barely any s’mores left.”  
  
The driver peered through the night out to the camp below us. “What are ya talkin’ about, boy?” he asked, genuinely confused. “There’s just a strawberry field there, no fires ta be seen.”  
  
My newest friend raised an eyebrow at me. “Yes, of course,” the demigod replied back.  
  
Mist was a strange thing to wrap my head around. Everything just seemed so clear to me; how could others  _not_  see it for what it was?  
  
He finally let us out just after we reached the top of the hill, in line with Thalia’s tree. Beckendorf paid the man and added on the tip he’d said he’d give, too. I had to be a little skeptical about where a year-rounder camper like him had gotten the money to pay for all that, but Beckendorf explained that Mr. D had (reluctantly) given him a bunch of emergency money. We then walked a handful more meters down the hillside to the border of the camp, where my newest friend said something under his breath that I couldn’t hear. Then he beckoned me forward, and I was able to cross through without issue underneath the ornate Greek archway that stood as the entrance.  
  
As the taxi puttered away back to the city, we continued to make our way down the hillside to the camp. As we drew nearer the cabins, we heard cheerful voices belting out stupid campfire songs at the top of their lungs, and the fire danced twenty feet high, the tongues of flame looking as though they’d been woven from pure gold.  
  
I immediately loved the place.  
  
“This place,” I gasped with wide, happy eyes, “is so awesome!”  
  
Beckendorf, his hands in his pockets as he walked beside me, grinned. “Yeah, it’s pretty great. It’s like a second home to all of us. I can’t even imagine how I survived before Camp Half-Blood. It just feels surreal to even think about.”  
  
The closer we got to the campfire, the louder the voices became, the clearer I could see the people around it, and the more I wanted to just drink in the entire camp with my eyes. Sadly, it was night, so despite there being no clouds in the sky I couldn’t see everything very well. I did see what looked like the Apollo cabin circled around the fire, though, leading the campfire songs… and these songs definitely seemed to consist of some strange lyrics.  
  
 _“This land is Minos’s land, this land is gold land!”_  the campers sang as we finally joined them.  _“From old Crete Island! To the Mediterranean!”_  
  
Beckendorf’s grin widened at my confused expression, and he lifted up his own voice in song.  _“From the Vai Palm Forest! To the Platis Potamos! This land was made gold by Minos!”_  
  
The song ended with a lot of voice cracks and a lot of laughter from the other campers. The campfire danced even higher, embers pirouetting and vanishing into the dark sky.  
  
“Um, what?” I said at last.  
  
“This Land is Minos’s Land,” Beckendorf said, as if that explained everything. At my continued blank expression, he stared. “Haven’t you ever heard a campfire song before?”  
  
“Yes,” I replied slowly, “but most of the time they’re not badly written parodies about dead and gold-obsessed kings.”  
  
He chuckled, rolled his eyes, and swatted my arm. I winced and rubbed it gingerly. My injured leg was already smarting something fierce from walking down the hill; I didn’t need to be down an arm on top of that. “You just haven’t been to the right camps,” he told me. He then turned back to the other campers and cupped his mouth with his hands. “Hey, everyone! I’m back!”  
  
A couple hundred heads—there were too many to count, and frankly I was too tired and hungry to bother anyway—all turned to look at us. The campfire immediately shrunk a few feet as the campers’ joy turned into confusion and a careful study of, well, me. By the flickering light of the magical campfire, I could feel everyone’s eyes gazing directly at me.  
  
“She’s the mortal?” someone sneered loudly. “She looks like a breeze could knock her over.”  
  
“Yes, Clarisse,” Beckendorf said, “and she’s a friend of all of ours. Everyone should treat her as if she was just another demigod.” It felt weird to be talked about as  _she_ , but I didn’t get a whole lot of time to think about this, because my friend turned to me and offered me a polite nod. “Eve, care to introduce yourself?”  
  
“Um, hello,” I said nervously. I was pretty outgoing normally—hell, back home, I’d been preparing to go live for an entire eleven months abroad in Brazil with another host family—but here, I was a weak mortal in front of one or two hundred very capable demigods, almost all of whom could probably very easily break my bones if they decided I was somebody to bully. “My name’s Eva… er, Eve Gamble. I’m eig… twelve years old, and I g-guess I’ll be staying here for the time being?”  
  
I hadn’t really meant that to be a question, but my nerves and ADD ended up accidentally making it one. I mentally facepalmed. Great first impression, Evan… no, Eve (Gotta use that name so that I can get used to it…). Way to sound confident and cool and not at all like a punching bag.  
  
“Why?” someone called out.  
  
“Um,” I said again, about to launch into some dramatic lie, but Beckendorf beat me to the punch.  
  
“Because since she is clear-sighted and has already saved the lives of a demigod, Chiron decided it would be better for everyone if she were to learn how to kill monsters, and Eve accepted.”  
  
It wasn’t  _exactly_  the truth, but it wasn’t exactly a lie, either. I glanced at Beckendorf, impressed. That had been way better than whatever I’d been about to blurt out. And it seemed to have worked, too. The campers were mumbling again, but this time it was more of an, “Okay, whatever, cool with me” sort of mumble. I smiled gratefully at my friend, who shot me a thumbs-up.  
  
“Now, where’s Mr. D?” Beckendorf asked the campers. “Eve here needs to see the orientation video, get a place to stay while she’s here, and get her schedule together.”  
  
“I am right here, Chuck Benzenburg.”  
  
There was a flash of light and a voice from directly behind us. I yelped in surprise, drawing some strings of laughter from the demigods, and whirled around quickly. Standing there was a short, pudgy man who looked like he belonged in one of those trailer parks. He wore tasteless, tacky clothes that told of a fashion sense with -5000 skill points. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of dark glasses which looked like they’d been bought from your average Wal-Mart. He was pretty much the last person I would’ve expected to be a god in secret, and it was only thanks to my avid binge reading of Rick Riordan’s series that I was able to pin him down as Dionysus at all. I mean, seriously, the dude was a train wreck.  
  
“Ah, there you are.” Beckendorf was entirely un-put-off by the banished god and his entirely dismal appearance. “I assume you heard all of that, then? Since I escorted Eve to Camp in the first place, I’ll go with you all and help put everything in order.”  
  
“Alright, alright, whatever,” I said, groaning and rubbing my poor stomach. “Just get me a cheeseburger and a nice, soft bed… that’s all I really care about now…”  
  
Mr. D *cough* Dionysus *cough* glared at me and looked like he was going to say something, but evidently remembered my status as a mortal. Ha! Take that, you Greek god with your… stupid, divine… customs… Man, monster fighting was really taking it out of me. I needed to get that dinner and some rest, stat, lest I simply knock myself out from the exhaustion and stress I’d undergone today.  
  
“Follow me to the Big House, Evana Chance,” Mr. D said blithely, turning around and staggering half-drunkenly towards said Big House. I said  _half-drunkenly_ because it was clear from the non-terrible smell of his breath, the way his eyes remained focused, and the fact that he was omnipresently grumpy that he hadn’t had any drinks in forever. “It is time for your orientation.”  
  
“Ha!” I crowed triumphantly, my mirth momentarily chasing away my drowsiness. “That’s closer to my name than you probably meant it to be!”  
  
The god stared at me critically. He must not have liked how nonplussed I was about him misnaming me. Well, my mom accidentally called me by my dog’s name sometimes, so I was already used to being humiliated like that.  
  
I could feel his eyes burning at me from behind his glasses.  
  
This was fine.  
  
With the entire congregation of demigods staring at us like some weird religionists staring at their divine being, Mr. D stopped and turned back at me. “Even considering what Chiron said… You feel different from the other mortals,” he announced, frowning and instead stalking closer to me. “Just who are you?”  
  
This was probably fine. I mean, it wasn’t like Chiron had told him  _everything_  about my status, right? Right?  
  
“Evan Gamble,” he said, quieter now, staring directly at my eyes as if he were looking right into my soul, “for what purpose and how did you come to our world?”  
  
“Um, I-I—”  
  
His frown deepening, Mr. D, now only one step away from me, reached his hand out and grabbed the top of my head roughly. Beckendorf tensed, looking ready to bring out his sword from his Tardis-like tool pouch, and the campers watched with bated breath. My face paled as coldness washed over me, and the god’s hand glowed white for a few moments. Then Mr. D hissed and withdrew his hand, shaking it roughly and staring at it with wide eyes, like it had been burned or something.  
  
“I see,” he said quietly. He looked at me with a very dangerous half-glare, one that was part angry and part curious. “I do not know why, or how, but it appears as though some god managed to find a way to bring you here him or herself. We already know everything you know, of course, but with this in mind…” Mr. D paused and thought for a moment. Then his strange little half-glare bore deep into me again, harder this time, and I whimpered and backed away. “I know your fatal flaw,  _mortal_ , and for the sake of us all, I will tell it to you. Do not try to change the future. Attempting this will only end in tragedy. There’s a reason why prophecies always happen. Trying to mess with the future will only result in more deaths and pain than you could have ever imagined. Your fatal flaw is the desire to change what you see for what you perceive to be the best. And in doing so, not only will it be fatal for you, but it will be fatal for us all.”  
  
Even though the campers had no idea what he was talking about, tension skyrocketed in the area around the campfire. The magical bonfire itself shrank to a measly two feet high, and turned to a shade of purple so dark it was nearly black.  
  
Anger replaced my tiredness.  
  
Who was this god to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do? I was put here for a reason. Even if I didn’t know what that reason was, and even if I didn’t want to be here myself, that didn’t mean that I wasn’t going to just do nothing! I  _couldn’t_  do nothing! It went against every cell in my body to stand around and just  _watch_  as people went to die before my eyes!  
  
Regardless of the demigods behind me, and Beckendorf’s pleading, warning hand that stretched out to grab my shoulder, I stepped forward until Mr. D and I were almost nose-to-nose. I was seething. I felt like Dracula in a blood drive which had just suffered a massive robbery.  
  
“I  _can_  change the future!” I hissed, my hands trembling at my side. I bit my lip and fought back tears. “I  _will_! Even if it’s just a little bit, even if all I can save is  _one life_ , I will do so with all my heart and soul! Otherwise…” A single tear rolled down my cheek, unnoticed by me at the time. “Why am I even existing right now?”  
  
Mr. D lifted his glasses off his head so that his eyes could glare directly into mine, unobstructed by any mediums. “And what happens when that single life you save causes another, or two more, or three more to be taken that otherwise would not have?” he asked, his eyes flashing with rage but his voice betraying no emotion. “What happens when that person’s or people’s parents have to hold funerals for them when without your thoughtless involvement, they could’ve continued living a bountiful life? What happens when the surviving family, furious at their late son or daughter’s death, vows to seek revenge and causes countless more deaths in the process? When you’ve inadvertently caused tens of hundreds of thousands of deaths, clear off into the unforeseeable future, what happens then, Evan Gamble?  _What happens_?”  
  
I shivered. Somehow, his use of my actual name when everyone else had been addressing me as Eve made it all the more terrifyingly serious.  
  
He paused for a moment, and I thought he might be done. But his jaw set, and he said, "The Fates do not enjoy anyone trifling with them. For everyone's sake, do not do so, or you will get burned."  
  
The sky was still dark and cloudless overhead. Thunder boomed regardless.  
  
My face pale as a ghost’s, I gaped wordlessly. Beckendorf stared in shock, his mouth opening but speaking no syllables. The campers whispered again, and this time, it was a hushed disbelief that I heard.  
  
Another ten tense seconds passed, during which nobody in the general vicinity dared move.  
  
Mr. D turned curtly and marched off to the Big House as though he hadn’t just forced me to question my very existence here, the causes of my existence here, and if I was even able to do anything at all. “Now, then, Miss Gamble. You have an orientation video to watch, and I have pinochle to play with nervous satyrs who probably purposefully lose against me.”


	9. Obligatory Training Montage

After Mr. D's terrifying little speech, I was left to question everything I thought I'd known about myself for the rest of the night. I could barely pay attention to the (poorly made) orientation video, which I would've had trouble paying attention to anyway thanks to my ADD. What if Mr. D was right? What if by attempting to change the future, I really  _did_  make everything worse? But then, what was the point of me even being here in the first place if there wasn't some plot point that somebody wanted me to avoid or butterfly away? Why had some god or goddess went through all the effort of forcibly dragging me out of my world, switching my gender, and dropping me in Yancy, if I wasn't meant to do anything about all these lives which would be lost in the wars with the Titans and Gaea?  
  
I barely even regarded Beckendorf with anything more than an aside nod when he handed me my schedule of events and led me to the Apollo cabin, which was apparently where I'd be staying. I would've thought that I'd be hunkered down with Hermes' kids, but apparently, during my orientation, Apollo had called in and personally accepted to host me. Something about the fact that I was "cute in a tomboy-ish sort of way" and had good taste in music.  
  
I distracted myself from my internal conflict by mentally promising to punch the sun god in his freaking face for that comment.  
  
I was set up in a bottom bunk on the southern-facing wall of the Apollo cabin. A young Will Solace was falling asleep in the cabin above mine; I found it a bit weird that they had boys and girls sleep together, but then again, it  _was_  normally half-brothers and -sisters sleeping here, so I supposed there wasn't much chance of anything suggestive happening. A smell similar to clean clothes that I couldn't quite place hung in the cabin, as well as the aroma of dried sage, which I recognized from tufts of the stuff I'd pulled from my grandfather's garden as a kid. The walls were barren of decoration except for a small amount of racks holding various weapons. Mainly swords. In the center of the cabin was a cot which I supposed had to be there for sick or injured demigods; the medical supplies around it were pretty good clues to this.  
  
I was in Camp Half-Blood. I was in the Apollo cabin. I had befriended  _the_ Percy Jackson and Grover Underwood, met  _the_  Chiron,  _the_  Charles Beckendorf; hell, I'd met a freaking  _god,_ and all of this in the same day!  
  
And I was miserable.  
  
How else was I supposed to feel when I'd just been told that my attempts to make history better would only get me and others killed? I mean, Dionysus was no god of prophecy, but his words held a weight to them that just could not be ignored. What he'd said wasn't wrong, and that was what was eating me up the most. Many times in the book had Rick Riordan emphasized the invulnerability of prophecies. It was canon that trying to change prophecies spelled bad news, both in the original books and in Greek mythology. I thought about how deeply Dionysus cared for his two sons.  
  
What if I saved Castor, only for Pollux to die in his place? Or what if both of them died of something else entirely because the Fates were angry that I'd interrupted their mysterious ways of planning people's lives?  
  
What if I managed to avert the Titan War, only for something even bigger than Gaea to crop up because of that? I mean, hadn't Gaea started to wake up in the first place  _because_  Kronos was defeated? What if she woke up even faster than normal because he never got to rise to power in the first place?  
  
What if one of the Seven  _died_  because they faced some kind of monster too early and were too weak to fight it?  
  
It would all be my fault. Any casualties in the future that were non-canon?  _I'd_  be the cause of them, however indirectly.  
  
Dionysus had shaken me up, and  _hard_.  
  
A yawn took over my mouth. Swallowing dryly, I rolled over on my bunk bed (it was nice to have a soft and comfortable mattress to sleep on again) and looked through the dark cabin at the sole clock which hung on the opposite wall from me. It was just past one o'clock in the morning now. I was losing my damn sleep because of this.  
  
But still...  
  
_"What then, Evan Gamble? What then?"  
_  
Unconsciously, I raised my left hand to my mouth and started chewing on its fingernails. I had a bad nervous habit of that. And right now, I was very nervous indeed -- I couldn't find a good answer to Dionysus's question. Damn it all. This shouldn't matter! I shouldn't be concerned with this! I shouldn't worry about what  _could_ happen, or what lives  _might_  be lost!  
  
I sat up in my bed, eyes wide.  
  
That was it! That was my answer!  
  
It really didn't matter what  _could_  happen, or who  _might_  die, because as long as I made the necessary plans, I could change everything for the better and still avoid any unnecessary casualties. Would it be difficult? Oh, Hades yes. But then again, what quest was ever  _not_  difficult? What quest ever did  _not_  have zero chance in failing, or zero chance in succeeding?  
  
As long as I focused on what  _would_ happen, what lives  _would_  be lost, I could create a better future for everyone. Uncertainties were just that -- uncertain. And worrying about them could only result in what was happening right now; me losing sleep. If I just distanced myself from the problem altogether, ran away from it and never looked back, the same result would occur. If I wanted to be at all happy with myself or the world, I could only walk with a high head into the unknown, a plan at my side, friends in front of me, and canon behind me.  
  
My confidence thus renewed, I smiled to myself at last, rested my head on my pillow, and drifted into an uneasy sleep.  


 

~o~

"You look better than you did last night," Beckendorf observed at breakfast the following morning. I stood at the back of the line of Apollo's kids who were bringing their food to the sacrificial flames, my stomach growling from the absolutely scrumptious smells of Camp Half-Bloods homemade food. Fresh eggs and ham, fresh strawberries, fresh herbs and vegetables, basically every breakfast food that you could consider fresh, all of which one could choose from at will. It smelled  _amazing,_ especially to my hungry stomach. My stomach growled, and Beckendorf cracked a smirk. "Got over Mr. D's speech from last night?"  
  
"Yep!" I said cheerfully. My eyes were a little bit heavy and I almost definitely had bags under them, but that was nothing new. I was no stranger to late nights spent staring blankly at the ceiling.  
  
"That's good," Beckendorf said. "What will you be doing from here on out?"  
  
"I'm gonna proceed as I'd planned before," I said, narrowing my eyes at the ceiling. " _Much_ more carefully, though."  
  
The person in front of me, Michael Yew, moved aside to go back to the Apollo table; he'd evidently tossed his sacrifice to Apollo into the flames already. I stepped up and considered my plate with a frown. What piece of food should I sacrifice? What god should I sacrifice it to? A particularly ripe strawberry, large and deliciously red, stood out to me, and I sighed. Well, I supposed I owed  _him_  a favor, even if I didn't particularly enjoyed his reasoning for it...  
  
_Thanks for harboring me, Apollo,_  I thought. I grabbed the strawberry and tossed it into the flames. An incredible scent I hadn't expected rose up; all kinds of summery smells, like the briny air of an early-July Floridan beach, warm coconut milk, newly picked lavender, a McDonald's hamburger, and tons of other things I couldn't identify all swirling together to create one unique, almost fulfilling smell. I was completely taken aback. Regardless, I sighed and gave a slight bow to the flames.  _You didn't have to take me in... you could've just left me to the Hermes guys, but you gave me shelter regardless. So... thanks.  
_  
As I made my way over to set my plate beside Michael and sit down, the sunlight slipping through the open walls of the dining pavilion seemed a tad warmer than it had been seconds earlier. My eyes felt a little bit less heavy than they had before my breakfast sacrifice.  
  
"So, Eve." Across the table from me, Will Solace grinned and lifted out his hand. He looked like he couldn't be more than fourteen or fifteen, and he was kind of ridiculously handsome, on the level of Old Spice advertisers. Like seriously, he reminded me of a kid Isaiah Mustafa, if Isaiah Mustafa was a blond surfer dude. If I'd been into guys, I might have gotten a crush on him. "You didn't have much of a chance to get to know any of us last night, so why don't we make up for it now?"  
  
"U-Um..." Gingerly, I grasped his hand and shook it. Wow, that was a  _weak_  handshake on my part. And was his hand a little warm? Yeah, his hand was a little warm. Like the sunlight against the back of my neck. "H-Hi. My name's E... Eve."  _No it's not, it's Evan! Why did I so willingly say that!?_  
  
Will's grin widened. "Will Solace. Pleasure to meet you."  
  
My cheeks warmed.  
  
...Actually, scratch what I said earlier. I  _did_  have a crush on him.  
  
Um...  _huh_. This... this could get awkward.  
  
_Stop blushing, cheeks!_ I demanded to my face, slapping it furiously.  _He's gay! And -- wait, does this make me bisexual? Or would I still be considered straight? I mean, I definitely like girls, but damn, that smile is just... GAH, I'M SO DAMN CONFUSED RIGHT NOW!  
_  
"I see you've found the reason why we call Will the Wife-Stealer," Michael Yew quipped as he took a bite of succulent bacon. He swallowed, sighed happily and chuckled. "Although he's really the Husband-Stealer, too." He offered me a smile and handshake of his own. I accepted the handshake and returned the smile. "Michael Yew. Nice to meet you, Eve."  
  
"Nice to meet you, too, Michael," I said.  
  
"I'm really not that attractive," Will denied. "I don't get why you guys always say that about me."  
  
"Will, you should've been born a child of Aphrodite," Michael deadpanned.  
  
"I'm  _not that attractive_!"  
  
"YES, YOU ARE!" shouted someone from the Aphrodite table. "IT'S KIND OF UNFAIR!"  
  
Michael shook his head bemusedly. "See? Even  _they_  agree."  
  
"Eve?" Will turned to me with pleading eyes. Dammit, for a boy, he did the puppy dog eyes remarkably well. "Tell them I'm not that attractive, pleeeease?"  
  
Dammit, don't put me on the spot like this, man! This is your own problem, not mine! I've got my own issues I need to sort out right now, like exactly what sexuality can define a man in a woman's body having his/her first man crush! I'm stressed enough as it is!  
  
Of course, I couldn't exactly say any of the above without sounding like a doofus, so I settled on, "Hu-buhhh?" and maybe a little drool.  
  
My forehead greeted the table hard as Michael chuckled and Will hung his head in despair.  
  
"It's alright, man," a young man who sat next to Will soothed him, chuckling. He looked a bit like Will, but had more of a sharper face and a pointier chin. He was also significantly less handsome, although when compared with Will, that included just about every other man in the entire camp. His hair was parted to the side. "We get that Dad blessed you with the best of his genes. We get that you've been swamped with love letters and been forced into hundreds of awkward situations because of your good lucks and tasteful dressing. But it's over now. You won't be accosted by fangirls or fanboys anymore. It's fine."  
  
"You guys don't understand!" Will insisted, shuddering, lost in some horrible memory. "All of those girls coming at me at once, screaming me for me to marry them...  _hundreds_  of them... Every day of elementary school, I opened my locker to an avalanche of letters.  _An avalanche_ , Lee! Of cards and letters! That shouldn't even be physically possible to fit that many in a locker! I don't even like girls!"  
  
"His handsomeness is sometimes more of a curse than it is a blessing," Michael said to me, shaking his head in wonder. He blinked and pointed to the guy comforting Will. "Oh, that's our Head Counselor, Lee Fletcher, by the way."  
  
Lee perked up at his name and waved at me. I waved back.  
  
"Hey, Eve," Lee said suddenly, reaching into his jeans pocket and pulling out a piece of folded, slightly wrinkled paper. "I nearly forgot, but I have our schedule of events for our cabin here. Since you'll be hangin' with the cool kids -- that's us, by the way," he added, to much booing from the Ares cabin, who appeared to have been eavesdropping the whole time. "You get to share a schedule with us. Don't worry if there's anything on it you think you might not be able to do -- no one's perfect at everything just starting out."  
  
Will perked up and grinned. "Yeah! And if there's anything you need help with, like archery or medical lessons, just ask us and we'll help out."  
  
"Thanks, guys," I said sincerely. Lee slid the paper across the table, and I picked it up and examined it. Here's what my Tuesday schedule looked like:  


 

8:00 A.M. - BREAKFAST & CABIN INSPECTION  
9:00 A.M. to 10:00 A.M. - ARCHERY PRACTICE (BOW AND ARROWS REQUIRED)  
10:00 A.M. to 11:00 A.M. - MONSTER ASSAULT TECHNIQUE with ARES CABIN (LERNAEAN HYDRAS: WHAT TO DO IF YOU EAT AT THE WRONG FAST FOOD CHAIN)  
11:00 A.M. to 1:00 P.M. - SWORD & SHIELD COMBAT with ANNABETH CHASE (FIRST HOUR LUNCH, SECOND HOUR ONE-ON-ONE COMBAT TRAINING, FULL COMBAT ARMOR REQUIRED)  
1:00 P.M. to 2:00 P.M. - PEGASUS RIDING with ATHENA CABIN  
2:00 P.M. to 4:00 P.M. - FREE CHOICE (CANOE RACES with NAIADS - FIRST PLACE PRIZE = 20 DRACHMA CREDIT AT CAMP STORE)  
4:00 P.M. to 5:00 P.M. - CLIMBING WALL with SATYRS  
5:00 P.M. to 6:00 P.M. - FOOT RACING with DRYADS  
6:00 P.M. to 9:00 P.M. - FREE TIME, CABIN CLEAN-UP, DINNER  
9:00 P.M. to 10:00 P.M. - LEAD BONFIRE SING-A-LONG  
10:00 P.M. - PREPARE FOR BED (LIGHTS OUT BY 11:00 P.M.)

  
"Looks like we have a full day ahead of us," I declared.  
  
Michael and Lee grinned. "Just wait until the climbing wall," they said in tandem, in a way that suggested I wouldn't like the climbing wall very much.  
  
From then on, my life fell into a sort of abnormal normality. Did that sound weird to you? Yeah, well, try getting your canoe dunked by a sudden wave because of a side remark that the water looked a little scummy. Or try coming so close to getting crushed by crashing walls that your sleeve gets torn off as you hurriedly climb away. As days turned into weeks, I lost footraces to a tree, made a stone sculpture that was about a thousand times less beautiful than an eight-year-old's, and had the Aphrodite cabin mob me and forcibly put makeup on my face. The only reason that they left me alone at all was because Argus came over and instantly one over fifteen staring contests in the same moment.  
  
I'd never known makeup could be magical before, but after it took me a full week to rub that stuff off me, I gained a new (horrified) respect for beauty products. A worthy enemy, to be sure.  
  
...Was I saying that about  _makeup_? Damn, my life was weird.  
  
How good was I at archery?  
  
"Not bad, not bad," Lee Fletcher hummed one day as he watched me land my fifth arrow in the final ring. "Your technique is pretty good, but your aim is off. Are you sure that you're aiming with your dominant eye?"  
  
I shrugged, frowning at my missed marks. "I'm right-handed, so... yeah?"  
  
"Hm... well, it's true that your dominant hand isn't always on the same side of your body as your dominant eye, so what if we try switching it up a bit? Here, try this left-handed bow."  
  
"But I told you, I'm --"  
  
Lee rolled his eyes. "It's more for eye dominance than anything." He held up the longbow and shook his hand a little. "Here, take it and just try."  
  
"Alright," I said uncertainly. I reached into a quiver that hung on the fence directly in front of me, and notched an arrow onto my bowstring. I then placed one finger above and one finger below the arrow. I pulled back with my left hand, trembling somewhat from the force acting opposite me, and narrowed my eyes as I stared at the target.  _FWIP!_  I let go of the bowstring, and it sprang back to its original position, quivering to a stop like a bobblehead. As a result, the arrow was launched forward, whistling through the air before burying itself in the target.  
  
My Head Counselor's eyes widened, and he slapped my back happily. "Look at that, Eve! You made the third ring! Nice!"  
  
"That still sucks, though," I muttered, wilting. "It's barely a millimeter from the fourth section. I'm no good at archery."  
  
"Hey, hey, don't beat up on yourself like that! All it takes is a little practice, and I bet you'll be hitting bulls-eyes in no time! Now, come on, show me that technique again. And this time, tilt your bow just a  _tad_  more to the right."  
  
And learning Ancient Greek from Annabeth? Despite how admittedly good of a teacher she was, it was absolute  _hell_. By the time I'd had my tenth class with her, my head was so confused with lettering and words that I couldn't tell  _what_  from  _which_. As hard as it was for demigods to read English, I simply could not understand their alphabet. I'd been having a hard enough time trying to learn Portuguese for my Youth Exchange to Brazil back home, forget a lost language with an entirely different writing system!  
  
In any case, weird, freaky, and as sometimes dangerous as my life grew to be, my first meeting with Luke Castellan took the foreboding cake.  
  
It happened in my second week of camp, after another failed hour of swordplay. I collapsed on the ground outside the armory, panting and so sweaty that I was more soaked than a naiad at any given time of the day. Gasping for breath, I wiped my forehead and simply wished for my body to cool down faster. The rest of the Apollo cabin were still cleaning themselves up, drying off after an intense round of fighting.  
  
"Hey, there, Professor Trelawny," someone's smooth and masculine voice greeted my ears from my right. It was a nickname many of the campers had started calling me because of Mr. D pretty much telling everyone about my secret on the first night. Only a few campers, like ones who hadn't come to camp yet or who were at the back of the bunch, like the Hermes cabin, hadn't heard. "So, is what they say about you true? You can really see into the future?"  
  
" _Back to the Future_  got zip right," I stated, tilting my head to the owner of the voice.  
  
The speaker was a young man who looked ruggedly handsome, with a squarish jaw and a vertical scar on his right cheek. Over his orange Camp Half-Blood shirt was his bead necklace, which boasted an impressive five beads. A satchel hung over his right shoulder.  
  
"Too bad," the boy said. "It was a good movie. I'm Luke Castellan, by the way."  
  
My back immediately stiffened and my face paled.  _L-Luke!?_  This boy was the future vessel of Kronos, the Titan of Time!? The hero destined to die in the Great Prophecy!? He didn't look like a final series villain  _at all_. He looked like your average high schooler, if more on the noticeably trouble-maker side of things. Crap -- well, anyway, I had to keep up appearances. Nervously, I held out my hand for him to shake.  
  
He didn't.  
  
"Um... heheh..." I rubbed the back of my head nervously, wincing at how heavy my long hair was with my sweat. "Well, I don't really know the future. More like, uh, glimpses. I... dreamed some stuff, and then found myself here, and some of it turned out to be true."  
  
Luke raised his eyebrow, not buying it for a sec. "You're a bad liar, you know that right?"  
  
Percy's words back at Yancy echoed in my head. I hung my head. Damn it, I needed to work on that. "I'm telling you, that's what happened."  
  
"Mm-hmm," the Big Bad of the first Percy Jackson series hummed. "Well, how much do you know? Is there anything bad that happens? I'm a head counselor; you can trust me. I'll tell Chiron, and we can call a war council to figure out what to do about it. I'll bet if there is, that it's been stressing you out trying to come up with someway to avoid it; we can help with that."  
  
_Red alert! Red alert! Bad idea!_  "No, no, no, I really only know a handful of details," I chuckled awkwardly, my grin twitching. "Nothing big that needs dealt with right away!"  
  
"Right away? Does that mean there will be something later?"  
  
"Ahahaha..." I sweatdropped and mentally gritted my teeth. Dammit, Luke, you pick up on way too much for your own good! "Um, oh, sorry, I just remembered that I needed to get the Hephaestus cabin to make me a weapon! Ha, yeah, I... I'll go do that!" I scrambled to my feet and darted away. "See you around, um, Luke!" I turned to wave nervously at him.  
  
Luke stood up, too. His eyes were narrowed, but he had a semi-pleasant smile on his face. "Just remember that if you need any help with anything future-related, I'm always here for you!" he shouted to me with cupped hands. " _Anything_!"  
  
My jog increased to a run.  
  
_Nope nope nope nope._ I was not falling for that trap.  
  
I'd made it to the forge when I happened to run into Beckendorf -- literally run into him. We collided with enough force that I fell on top of him and then rolled painfully away.  
  
"Owowowowow..." I grumbled, rubbing my now-sore cheek. "What are your muscles  _made of_ , iron?" I asked as the African American helped me to my feet.  
  
He smirked. "Yes. What is your sweat made out of, oceans?" he asked, motioning to his shirt. Even though my hair had only briefly touched his Camp Half-Blood shirt, it had already gained one heavy, damp line down the center.  
  
"Yes," I said in his exact tone of voice. I turned around and stared worriedly back at the armory, but the only people there were my other cabin-mates, all staggering out, many of them bruised up. Clarisse, who had been our goal for the cabin challenge today, fought  _hard_.  
  
Beckendorf followed my gaze. "What are you doing over here so early anyway? Slacking off again? I was just coming over to make sure you all got to the forge just fine, but I didn't expect you to be done this early."  
  
"Beckendorf!" I gasped in a falsely hurt voice. "I only hid from the nine-mile dryad run one time, and that was because it was nine freaking miles!"  
  
"Watch the language," he warned. "Chiron and Mr. D don't like it when we swear. The small children could get their innocent ears marred."  
  
I had to stare at that. "How innocent can pint-sized monster slaying warriors be?"  
  
Beckendorf raised his eyebrow. "You try saying no to Whitley's puppy dog eyes."  
  
"He's eight, and a son of Aphrodite," I said, putting my hands on my hips. "That's just an unfair example."  
  
"Touche. So, your reasoning for leaving your lesson this early?"  
  
I hesitated. It was probably best not to let as many people know about the future as possible -- if I said too much with the gods possibly listening in, everything might be all screwed up. Someone might get smote, and then a newer, less human Luke Castellan might end up as Kronos's meatsuit.  
  
"Nothing, just looking for you," I said quickly. "I lost earlier than everyone else and wanted some time to cool down. So, um, heheh, speaking of my weapon, you ever heard of RWBY?"  
  
Beckendorf blinked. "What do rubies have to do with a weapon? ...You don't want one in the hilt of a sword or something, do you?"  
  
"What!? No! I'm not that vain! RWBY -- R, W, B, Y! It's an anime..." I trailed off. Oh, wait, how  _would_  Beckendorf know what I was talking about? The first episode of Roosterteeth's amazing series wouldn't come out for another eight years. All concerns about Luke Castellan forgotten, I froze in horror.  _I wouldn't get to listen to "Caffeine" for another eight years!? NOOOOOOOOOO!  
_  
"A-ni-me?" my best friend sounded out carefully, tilting his head in confusion. "What's that, some kind of weird Japanese food?"  
  
"What? No!" I stared at him. "...I have  _much_  to teach you, my good friend."  
  
"Hey guys!" It was Michael Yew, jogging up to us with the rest of the Apollo cabin. "Just in time! We were wondering where you'd run off to, Eve. Were you guys talking about what kind of weapon you'd like, Eve?"  
  
I jolted. "Oh, right, I nearly forgot! Geez, I'm such a scatterbrain..." I turned back to the African American demigod, who just looked amused with all of this. We started walking towards the forge, and I coughed into my fist. "Ahem. As I was saying before I started to go off on a different course, I'm kinda bad with a sword, so I'd really appreciate not having to use one. But there's this one character in RWBY who has these really cool nunchucks..."  


 

~o~  
:: ELSEWHERE, THAT NIGHT ::  


The pit was dark and cold, a stale air drifting through the area. Shadows crept along the rocky floor like black ghosts flitting through the sky. A virus of evil permeated the atmosphere, tinging everything it touched with a vague sense of despair and death.  
  
 _"Did you talk to the girl, my servant?"_  rasped an ancient voice, one warped by pain and dismemberment.  _"Did you find out anything from the one who caused the tear in space-time?"  
  
"Yes, Master," _Luke Castellan replied, invisible in the darkness but kneeling.  _"She refused to say very much, but I did glean that she indeed knows the future. She seemed frightened of me the moment she learned my name, so I can only assume she knows who I am and that I work for you. However, since no authorities from Olympus have come to bring me to their clouded sense of justice, I believe that she has not let anyone know exactly_ what _she knows. Only that she does indeed know the future."  
  
"I see,"_ Kronos, master of time and currently Titan In a Thousand Pieces replied thoughtfully.  _"Still, the fact that she is here in the first place... the gods would not even entertain sending someone back in time unless they were in danger and they knew it. This means that our plan, to some extent, will work. Even so, we must be more careful. We must raise the stakes. If they brought someone who knows what's coming into play, we must make what's coming unforeseeable. Is Echidna's son reformed yet?"_  
  
"Yes, Master. I received word in a dream from Hyperion before coming here that the ripples in the universe's magic, caused by Eve, have had an unforeseen effect of increasing the recovery rate of monsters in Tartarus. Because of this, it is now ready."  
  
"Good. Send it to Yancy Academy -- the gods must have had a reason for putting her there, and that reason must be a strong demigod, since that fly-covered centaur to be teaching there."  
  
"Yes, sir. Of course, sir."  
  
"Muahaha! Rise, Phaea! Rise, and destroy the gods' plan!"

 


	10. Murphy's Law Sucks, Really Badly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, this chapter is done at last! It's a lot longer of a chapter because I wanted to cover Percy's trip to Camp Half-Blood in one go. Oh, look, there's a butterfly! How beautiful! Oo, another one! And another! And another...!
> 
> Very quickly, before you go and read this chapter, please reread the portion of last chapter with Kronos and Luke! I accidentally got some things wrong because it's very annoying sometimes to look up Greek myths thanks to differences between myths. Rereading the last portion of last chapter, which I have since fixed, will help you to not be confused by certain events in this chapter.

 :: PERCY ::

I swear that I wasn't  _trying_  to get pigs to fly. I really, really wasn't. But the universe seems to hold some kind of grudge against me that I'm not aware of, if what happened at the end of my school year is telling of anything.

Allow me to back up a bit.

The rest of the school year passed without incident after Eve left Yancy. The only thing that was different was that I was getting steadily more and more frustrated; everybody else seemed to be of the belief that Mrs. Dodds had never been our teacher. Whenever I'd ask someone, they always looked at me blankly or stared at me like I was some hallucinating weirdo. It got so bad that I actually almost ended up believing I'd had some bad mushrooms or something.

Almost. Grover and Eve were the evidence I needed to know I wasn't just dreaming  _everything_  up.

I'd been able to tell from Eve's reactions when I talked to her in the dorm that I was right on the money and that she was lying about Mrs. Dodds being real. She hadn't been able to look me in the eyes, and she'd denied the woman's exist almost immediately after the question had left my mouth. And whenever I asked Grover about how Eve had been uninjured from the sword she'd somehow gotten stuck in her hands, he'd always flinch and stutter before claiming to not know what I was talking about.

 _Something_  was up. I just had no idea what.

One other thing that was bothering me was the weather. With each passing day, it gradually grew more and more furious and random. It was as though the sky was trying to wage war with the sea, or at the very least out do each other. One day, a twister ripped through central Manhattan, miraculously damaging only a few buildings and killing no one. Scientists on the news had been completely unable to explain how it had formed so suddenly. The next day, twenty foot waves crashed against Long Island Sound, flattening several miles of forest. It was all over the papers.

With end-of-the-year exams approaching, I was already stressed enough about getting passing grades so that I'd be allowed to return next year and my mom wouldn't be disappointed in me  _again_. I didn't need all the distractions of the howling wind outside, or the intense pitter-patter of rain hammering against my window. All the noise and commotion from the ever-increasingly potent weather phenomena was driving my ADD through the roof. I was also worried about what had happened with Mrs. Dodds and Eve at the museum, especially since the former had disappeared off the face of the planet and the latter had left the school that night.

I might've gone crazy thinking I was… well, crazy, if it wasn't for my near certainty about being right since Eve and Grover weren't able to lie about it well enough. I was still overworking my poor brain trying to figure out why no one else except us three was able to remember Mrs. Dodds, but I made a mental note to find Eve and ask her about it next time I saw her. Having that goal helped calm me down. From what I'd been able to tell about her in the short time I'd known her, she was a far less stubborn person than Grover, who I knew would never tell me anything.

She  _had_  promised that she'd call and visit me sometime, after all, so I was sure I'd see her sometime over the summer.

All of this in mind, I focused on studying as hard as I could for the exams. I was even able to achieve some peace and quiet from Nancy, who was almost too scared to be in the same room as me anymore after Eve punched her in the face (which had been  _ridiculously_  cool, by the way). A part of me was almost disappointed by the fact that she wasn't trying to antagonize Grover or me anymore, because now I had no excuse to re-break her nose, but I managed to ignore it in favor of focusing on my work.

Finally, exam week rolled around, and I… wasn't quite  _ready_ , exactly, but at least confident that I wouldn't fail  _every_  class.

Each of the longer-than-usual tests took either two or three hours to complete, and we took two a day. We were allowed a half-an-hour break between each hour of the given exam. I sat nervously in my seat, squirming about and chewing my thumb as I desperately tried to think about what the answers to these tests might be. Some of the content in the questions (well, a lot of it, really) I simply couldn't remember having ever learned in class, and so I resigned myself to filling in a random bubble. Others I actually remembered, or was kind of sure that I did.

Latin, quite expectedly, was the test I did my best on.

I'd studied hardest for Latin, mostly to impress Mr. Brunner, who was the best teacher I'd ever had. And it had paid off. I remembered the difference between Chiron and Charon, and was able to recount how Perseus (no, not me, the  _mythological_  Perseus) decapitated Medusa in her sleep (sounds like the kind of awesome thing I would do if I was in a myth, though). The only part I didn't do so well on was conjugating those Latin verbs, but then, I don't think  _anyone_  could do well on that.

At last, the Latin test was over, and relieved to be done with the grueling exams, I got up, handed my test to Mr. Brunner, stretched, and started to make my way out of the classroom.

"Percy, may I have a word with you?" the wheel-chaired man in his tweed jacket asked.

I paused and looked back, curious. What did Mr. Brunner want with me? "What is it, Mr. Brunner?" I said, raising my eyebrow.

"You have performed remarkably well in this class," he said with a pleasant smile. I frowned at that. That was certainly not true; I would probably be passing with a grade halfway between a B and a C. It would definitely be the only B on my report card. "You have improved greatly from the beginning of the school year. And from what I can see of your exam so far, it seems like you have much care for my class."

"Uh… yeah," I said, blushing a little from the praise. I'd never been told that my school work was great before, and coming from someone who'd almost become a hero to me, I couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed. However, I'd feel bad telling the coffee-smelling man that it was only because he was so cool and kind that I was trying so hard.

He'd been the first teacher I'd had to accept my random bursts of inattention, staring into space, and completely forgetting things said mere moments before, and to give me personal attention to help me improve. I didn't want to bring him down by telling him that I actually didn't really care a whole lot about what twelve things Hercules did to maintain a goddess's favor.

"There is a summer camp for people who enjoy mythology which I help teach at," the greying old man said, handing me a card. I narrowed my eyes at the information on it. Why was it called Camp Half-Blood? And was that street address the number pi? "Grover goes there, too. I hear it's also where Eve moved to."

I tilted my head at that. "But wait, if it's a summer camp, then how did she get in during the—?"

"It also functions as a year-round learning institution," Mr. Brunner interjected easily, shifting a bit and glancing away for just a flicker of a moment. I furrowed my brow at that; I got the sense he wasn't telling me the full story, but I didn't press the matter.

"I see."

"I think you would greatly enjoy this camp, Percy," he said warmly. He smiled and folded his arms on his desk. "I hope to see you there soon."

I hesitated, looked at the door, then looked back at Brunner. "I'll think about it," I promised sincerely. It  _did_  sound fun; at the very least, if my favorite teacher and my only friend were going to be there, too, I wouldn't have to be the new kid with no one to talk to. I'd been in that position far too many times already. I waved and headed for the door. "See ya later."

"Have a good evening, Percy."

Before I knew it, it was the final day of school.

Things like that happened a lot to me. I'd blink, read the time over on the nearest clock, and realize hours had passed. It made me late to a lot of different things, and was really just annoying, especially since it never seemed to happen when I was in a boring lecture.

Hurriedly, I packed all of my belongings that I'd brought with me to Yancy into my suitcase. There was no concern of something not fitting, simply because I didn't have enough to fill the darn thing. I was still mulling over Mr. Brunner's request in my head while I packed. Should I go to that summer camp he was talking about? I desperately missed my mom, Sally Jackson, who was just about the kindest person you'd ever meet. I wanted to spend the summer with her since I'd hardly ever gotten to see her after school had begun last September. But I couldn't deny that I was also very interested in the idea of hanging out with Mr. Brunner and Grover a lot. It would be fun.

Which should I choose?

Frowning at my luggage, I sighed and rubbed my hand through my hair.

"Are you alright, Percy?" Grover said from behind me, and I looked over my shoulder to seem looking at me concernedly while he packed his own suitcase.

"I'm fine," I reassured him with a smile. "Just trying to decide what to do for the summer."

My best friend stopped packing and sat on his bunk, shaking his curly-haired head. "Don't worry about it, Perce. What are your options?"

"Well…" I shrugged. "Mr. Brunner told me about a summer camp he thought I might be interested in. Camp Half-Blood, I think it's called. Do you really go there?"

"Yeah, I do," he said. "It's practically my home. Just about everyone's really nice. Well, except for Clarisse, but she's..." He paused and flinched. "Um, well, yeah."

I thought about that for a bit. It'd be great to be able to get the gang back together again—just let the days go by as I relaxed eating s'mores with Grover and Eve, and having Mr. Brunner challenge me chalk-to-sword to spell all the Latin names correctly that I could.

"A lot of the campers have something like ADD or dyslexia, too, Perce," he said suddenly, leaning forward. "You wouldn't be alone."

I looked up at that, my eyes widening. "What? You're kidding."

"Nope." Grover shook his head, laughing a little. "You know me; I'm bad at jokes."

"Can't argue there." We chuckled and I grinned, happy to have been able to meet someone as awesome as Grover. He'd been the thing that had kept me from cracking and going Karate Kid on Nancy Bobofit all year, which would've probably gotten me expelled. If it wasn't for him, I'd have hated Yancy. But I was really looking forward to next year, all things considered. It really wasn't anywhere near as bad as my other schools were.

After that, we finished packing up, left our dorm behind us, and maneuvered through the school's halls and out the door. We kept walking together all the way to the Greyhound station. I was worried I'd have to say goodbye to him there, but as it turned out, he was riding the same bus as me, so we ended up sitting beside each other.

Everything was going fine until the Greyhound broke down.

We were in a country lane, next to one of those old fruit stands, the kind you might expect to spot in a medieval film. The driver had us all get out because there was a lot of black smoke coming from the engine and the bus was getting swelteringly hot. On our side, the right side, rows upon rows of maple trees swept into the distance with a disgusting amount of McDonalds bags, styrofoam cups, and cigarette boxes  _slooowly_  decaying near the road. The fruit stand was on the opposite side, and the fruit it sold looked like it could have been grown in the Garden of Eden. Even looking at them from twenty or so feet away was making my stomach growl.

Strangely, there were no customers in the fruit stand. I would've thought that with apples  _that_ red and strawberries which looked  _that_  juicy, there'd be at least one or two people browsing the overflowing boxes of produce. But nope, there wasn't anyone buying, just three old ladies whom I assumed to be the owners of the stall, sitting there on a simple wooden bench and knitting a pair of electric-blue socks large enough to fit a giant. The women on the left and right knitted one sock each. The middle one had a big ball of yarn.

I nudged Grover and discreetly jabbed my thumb at the old ladies. "Hey, who do you think could wear those socks? Godzilla, maybe?"

He tilted his baseball cap down to stop the sun from getting in his eyes and looked where I pointed. His eyes widened and his face paled.  
"Percy, we need to get back on the bus," he said very quickly, turning rapidly and tugging at my arm.

I pulled against him. There was  _no_  way I was purposefully frying myself. "What!? No way, man, it's boiling in there!" I glanced back at the old ladies; for some reason, I felt drawn to them, like some kind of gravity. And although I had no idea why, all three of the grandmas were staring directly at me.

"Man, that's kinda creepy," I said, my skin crawling a little. "Are they looking at me?"

Grover's face somehow grew even paler. "Sixth grade," he whimpered under his breath, then tugged on my arm more desperately. His nose started twitching. That was how I knew he was really upset. "Percy, we  _have_ to get back on the bus! Don't look at them."

"The old ladies? Why?"

As we spoke, the middle one reached into her pocket and took out a pair of shears, like she was going weeding after this. One of the blades was golden, the other silver. As I watched, confused, she cut the yarn once, then unwound another piece of string and cut it, too. Each  _snap_  of the shears was audible all the way over here, on the other side of the road, even atop the overheating engine and the Greyhound driver's cursing. Then the ladies folded their socks up, not taking their eyes off of me one second.

Grover's face lost any color it had left.

"Percy.  _Now_."

"Yes, mother," I said with a roll of my eyes, briefly wondering why the sunlight didn't feel as warm as it had a second ago. We'd barely pried open the door and stepped inside the unbelievably hot Greyhound when the engine suddenly rumbled and came back to life with a growl like its namesake waking up from a nap. The driver emerged from under the open hood, wiping his brow and coughing.

The other passengers cheered.

"Darn right!" he yelled, slamming the hood down triumphantly. He quickly jumped onto the bus and into his seat, grinning out the door. "All aboard!"

Once everybody had piled back on, the Greyhound rumbled down the road again, and cooled down considerably. Even once it had gotten back to a normal temperature, though, I felt strangely feverish—sickly hot and freezing cold at the same time.

Grover didn't look any better than I felt. His teeth kept chattering and his hands didn't stop trembling. "Always sixth grade," he muttered, as if I couldn't hear him. "Why sixth?"

I put a hand on his shoulder. He yelped like a ghost had flown through him.

"Are you alright, man?" I asked, worried.

When he looked at me, he was trembling so bad it looked like he might Pogo-stick right out of the bus. "No, Percy," he said seriously. "No, I'm not. Percy, promise me you won't go looking for trouble."

"I'll go looking for trouble when pigs fly," I said flatly.

Grover didn't seem amused. "Not funny, dude. Let me walk you home from the Greyhound station. Promise me."

"Um… alright."

~o~

Okay, I'll admit it: I kind of wanted to ditch Grover. The whole way to the next stop, he kept muttering about sixth grade, and looking at me like I was already in a coffin. I knew his bladder would act up, because it always did when he was nervous, and sure enough, he got up and immediately sprinted for the bathroom at our terminal.

I  _wanted_ to ditch him.

But I didn't.

I wasn't sure why, but somehow I felt vulnerable, ever since the bus breaking down. I couldn't shake the cold that had fallen over me like a shroud. I wanted Grover's company more than I wanted to leave him, even in spite of how he seemed to be mentally preparing my funeral. So I waited for Grover to do his thing and stared with an inexplicable paranoia at all of the people milling around the terminal. When he came out a minute later, we caught a taxi and stuffed our suitcases inside, us following them.

"East One-Hundred-and-Fourth and First," I told the driver.

It took us a while, but we finally reached our stop. I paid the driver with my last twenty, and we wheeled our suitcases into my apartment building. We lugged them up to my apartment and I opened the door, ushering Grover inside.

"Feel free to stay a while," I told him. "If she's home from work, Mom won't let you leave without hearing your life story and showing you all my baby pictures anyway."

"Sure," Grover said, smiling. He looked better than he had on the bus. He'd managed to calm down during the taxi ride over. He still was kind of ashen-faced, but he wasn't muttering nonstop anymore. "I don't have a lot I was gonna do, so it's fine."

"I'm home!" I called, stepping in.

Immediately, I coughed. Smoke hung in the air, the smell of third-rate beer mixing in with it and making it even worse. Grover wrinkled his nose in disgust. The living room was dimly lit, and ESPN blared on the TV at full volume. The carpet was littered with empty beer cans and stray chips.

"Looks like Smelly Gabe's having a poker party again," I muttered to Grover, frowning at the four men sitting around the table in the center of the living room. My aforementioned step father was one of these four, chubby and stinking up the place like a skunk with bad breath. He wore cheap thrift store clothes, the kind that don't even pretend the person wearing them is wealthy. The three hairs on his head that had yet to lose the battle to balding were combed back in a poor effort to make him appear handsome.

The other people playing poker were just a few of Gabe's friends from the Electronics Mega-Mart in Queens, where he managed the store. The only one of his friends' names that I remembered was Eddie, who was the only one of the four men who'd ever been the least bit nice to me. When he was here, he would at least try to calm my stepfather down when he'd get angry at me. I felt bad for him that he'd gotten himself involved with people like that. It was going to bite him in the butt someday.

Gabe didn't even look up. "You got money?"

Grover gaped. "Excuse me? You see your stepson for the first time in months and all you say is,  _You got money?_ "

"Eh?" That drew the resident walrus's attention. Eddie locked eyes with Grover and cut his hand across his neck, trying to signal for my friend to not go any further. Gabe looked over at us and frowned. "So you brought a friend, kid?" He stood up and frowned at my fellow middle schooler. "Something wrong with your leg there, slick?"

"Yeah, I brought a friend," I said, a growl entering my voice, "and that's none of your business. Come on, Grover, let's go to my room."

My obviously drunk stepfather watched us move to my room, no doubt considering whether to steal whatever remaining money I had from the taxi like he usually did. Then his eyes fell on Grover again and he sat back down. "I wouldn't be sounding so smart if I were you!" he warned me through his cigar as he returned to his poker game. "Your report card came home, brain boy. I saw that F in English."

 _I'm dyslexic_ , I thought furiously.  _It's a miracle that I got any of the questions in English right at all!_

My friend beside me scowled. "Is he  _always_  like this?" he demanded, plugging his nose from the stench and shaking with anger.

"Usually worse," I sighed. "He didn't take my money today."

" _Blaa-ha-ha_!" Grover's fist shook with fury. "Percy, you've been having to live with this your whole life?"

I opened the door, and we were immediately hit by the stench of Gabe, as if it hadn't already been stuffing our noses from the moment we'd walked into the door.

Grover actually gagged as we walked in my room and shut the door. He quickly scampered over to the window, avoiding the beer cans, bottles, and old car magazines that Gabe had strewn about all over my carpet. "I'm sorry, Percy, but I can't handle this smell any longer," he choked out, flicking up the latch. "I  _need_  to open this window. I  _need_  fresh air."

I groaned, made room on my bed by shoving aside a stack of magazines I'd never touched in my life, and nodded. "You and me both. I can't  _stand_  his cologne or the stink of those cigars. He literally couldn't be more gross if he tried."

"You weren't lying when you called him Smelly Gabe," my best friend grumbled. He drew in a long, relieved breath as a nice breeze of fresh, unsmelly air trickled into my room and, bit by bit, washed away the smell of nastiness in human form. "How have you been able to stand him?"

"I haven't," I hissed, glaring at my shut door. "I wish he'd never entered my mom's life. It's always like a pigsty in here, because he's just that. A pig. It's my mom who's put up with him, not me."

The other boy's eyes widened, and something like… realization passed over his face. "Oh. I see."

"My mom doesn't deserve him." I punched my bed, imagining it was Gabe's face. "She deserves, like… a prince or something."

Grover stood smiling for a moment, then pointed at our suitcases, which we'd left leaning against the wall by my door. "What should we do with those?" he wondered.

I shrugged. "Just leave them be for now."

At that moment, the door opened, and my mom stepped through with a smile brighter than a thousand suns. Instantly, all of my anger at Gabe melted away like butter in a microwave, replaced with nothing but fuzzy, warm love for the nicest person in the entire world. I felt more relaxed than I had in months. I heard Grover's breath hitch.

"Hello, Percy," she said, holding up bags of blue candy and shaking them. "I brought home free samples!" Then she looked to my left, where Grover stood with wide, awed eyes, and she stood upright in surprise. A moment later, her bright smile returned. "And who might this be? Won't you introduce me to your friend, sweety?"

A blush immediately flooded my cheeks. "Mom! Don't call me that, that's embarrassing!"

Grover straightened his back. "My name is Grover Underwood, ma'am," he said. I could tell he was much more relaxed now, far less angry about Gabe. My mother just had that effect on people; a single smile from her could warm even the coldest hearts.

"Oh!" Her eyes lit up with recognition. I'd written her many letters about my life at boarding school (terrible spelling mistakes no doubt riddled throughout them), and Grover had been in a lot of them. "So you're the famous Grover I've heard so much about. I'm glad my son has found such a well-mannered young man for a friend."

Now we were both blushing.

"I'm sorry I came here without your permission, Mrs. Jackson," he began, "but we encountered a bit of a…  _problem_  on the Greyhound."

My mother's eyes widened and her face paled. "What happened?"

"Nothing too serious," I mumbled, frowning at Grover and hitting him lightly on his arm. He didn't have to make Mom worry like that. "The bus broke down for a few minutes and we had to get out. Nothing more than that happened."

"Tell her about the ladies, Percy," Grover prodded. Mom's brow wrinkled with concern.

I rolled my eyes, somewhat nervous on the inside. I didn't want to talk to her about it, because frankly, after we'd left that fruit stall, I'd realized that I had been terrified of those three knitting grandmas. Even though they hadn't even done anything, ripples of fear had swept over me since witnessing them cut the string.

Mom's gaze fell on me, and something about the fear in her voice made me unable to not listen to her. "What ladies, Percy?" she demanded.

Now I was getting scared all over again. I'd practically never seen my mother afraid my whole life. Sad, angry, disappointed, yes, but almost never fearful. The only times she had been was when I told her about that weird guy who I swore to this day had just one eye staring at me through my elementary school window, or when she'd found  _little_  little kid me strangling a venomous snake with my meaty toddler hands.

I chewed on my lower lip and rubbed my arm. "There were three old ladies at a fruit stall across the road from us when we got off the bus. They were knitting a big pair of socks, and the woman in the middle cut two pieces of her yarn."

"Two?" Mom stared. "You're certain it was two?"

"Y-Yes." I was  _very_  scared now. Mom was somewhere between extreme fear and extreme confusion.

She was silent for a few minutes, then sighed and ran her hand through her hair. "Percy… I'm so sorry. I had planned to take us to Montauk today. I'd rented out our usual cabin and everything…" Her eyes grew downcast. "But it looks like we'll have to wait to do that. I thought if I could keep you by my side, you'd be safe, but…"

"Safe?" My voice cracked. "Safe from what?" I looked at Grover, who wouldn't meet my eyes. "Do you know what she's talking about?"

"Percy, your dad wanted you to go to summer camp," Mom said when Grover didn't speak. She opened the door again and beckoned us out. "It's the only safe place for kids… kids like you."

"Kids like me?" I demanded, my voice rising with sudden hurt. "What do you mean?" And a summer camp… my mind jumped. "Do you mean Camp Half-Blood?"

"What!?" Mom stared. "How do you know about it?" She gave a suspicious frown to Grover.

"My teacher at school, Mr. Brunner, told me about it," I said, reassuring her. "What's so special about it?"

She looked thoughtful at that, but sighed and shook her head. "We can't explain it here. They might smell you otherwise, and if they do, then we'll have a hard time getting away."

"Who will smell me? Get away from what? Can somebody please give me some answers!?"

Mom shook her head sadly and left the bedroom. "Percy, Grover, grab your suitcases. We need to leave, now."

My mom's voice had a sense of urgency to it I'd never heard before. Immediately, we both got up and grabbed our suitcases before following her into the still-smelly living room, where Gabe's poker party remained raging on.

"Gabe, the boys and I are leaving," she said hastily. "I'm taking Percy to a summer camp."

Gabe stood up immediately, furious. My mom flinched. "What? But we're in the middle of our poker game! Who's going to make us bean dip,  _Sally_?"

"I will when I get home," Mom growled, and everyone in the room was surprised by the ferocity of her glare. "We will be gone for about an hour, maybe more. Once I get back, I will make  _triple_  the amount of bean dip as usual. Seven layers. Guacamole. Sour cream. The works."

Gabe hesitated, looked at Grover and I, looked at his friends, and then frowned at my mom, who flinched again. Why was she reacting like that?

"That car better not have a scratch on it," my stepfather said testily to me. "Not. A. Scratch."

Grover did his funny little angry bleat. " _Blaa-ha-ha_! It's not like Percy'll be driving the thing!"

"Can it, wise-ass, or I might not let you in this apartment anymore," Gabe returned evilly.

I opened my mouth to protest his treatment of my friend, but Mom shook her head warningly at us and we both calmed down. Don't upset Gabe when he just gave us permission to ride in his Camaro. The message came across crystal clear.

We threw open the door to the stairwell, raced down it without worrying about the incessant bonks and bangs created by Grover's and my suitcases bouncing down the stairs, and ran as quickly as we could to the bottom of the apartment building. Once we got to the Camaro, Grover and I fit our suitcases into the trunk, piled in the back, and snapped on our seat belts. After my mother handed us some blue candy for the road, she hit the gas.

The whole way to Camp Half-Blood, my mother clenched the wheel like someone afraid of heights might tightly grip the railing of a high bridge or of the viewing platforms on the Empire State Building. Grover and I chewed on our blue food, but even the deliciousness of pure sugar and fat couldn't distract me from my confusion.

"Can somebody  _please_  tell me what's going on?" I demanded at last, as we drove up into a hilly part of Long Island that was all countryside and nothing else. "You both are acting like my life's in danger and I have no idea why."

"Those old ladies…" Grover shook his head, munching mournfully on a blue twizzler. "They're not good news, Perce. Not good news."

"Have you met them before or something?" I stared at him. "Are they, like, serial killers?"

"You could say that," he said darkly, gazing with a crushing sadness out the window. "Always sixth grade…" he muttered under his breath, so that I could barely catch it.

Whoa.

What?

Was I getting chased by some mass-murdering grandmas, or what? Did they kill their victims by cutting them up with shears and then stuffing their bodies in oversized socks?

Left even more confused than I had been before Grover had said anything, I groaned and banged my head against the back of my seat in frustration. I made a big show out of chewing down some blue jelly beans.

"What about Mrs. Dodds?" I asked, and Grover froze.

"Mrs. Dodds?" my mom called back. "Who's that?"

"She was our Math teacher. She was really mean and gave me a lot of detentions for no reason, but one day this girl I met punched another girl, and Mrs. Dodds dragged her away for it, and then suddenly just vanished." I didn't mention the part about Eve having a sword stuck in her hand and somehow not being injured in the slightest. I didn't want my mom thinking I was  _completely_  crazy.

"What!?" Mom turned around quickly, eyes wide. "All of this happened at Yancy?"

"Y-Yeah," I stammered. "And it was really weird, like everyone just forgot about Mrs. Dodds after she disappeared."

She frowned worriedly and faced front again. "I see," she said quietly. "It's a good thing we're not going to Montauk after all."

Several more moments of silence passed. Montauk… the thought of our favorite beach in New York brought up some inner thought within me. While I sat silent, an uncomfortable aura arose in the Camaro. Unable to take the tension anymore, I finished off my jelly beans and sat up straight in my seat. "Mom?" I said, a little nervous about the subject I was going to be bringing up. "Can you tell me about Dad?"

In her reflection in the rear view mirror, I saw her face grow soft, years of stress working to keep our family happy eddying away from her forehead and cheeks. "He was the kindest person in the entire world, Percy," she said gently, keeping her eyes on the road. "He was handsome, intelligent, strong. You're a lot like him, Percy, and not just because you have the same hair and eyes." She paused, perhaps recalling some distant, whimsical memories of happier days before Gabe and poker parties. "If he could see you now, I'm sure he'd be very proud."

"Proud of me?" I repeated, choking on my words. How could he be proud of me? I'd barely passed most of my end-of-the-year exams. I'd failed English altogether. I couldn't pay attention if a gun was pointed to my head and I was told to do so, and I could barely read anything without every letter floating in front of my head.

"Very proud," my mother told me sincerely.

Grover smiled sadly at me. I swallowed a lump in my throat, tears on the edge of my eyes. Blinking, I wiped them away before anyone could notice.

I needed something, anything for a distraction. My eyes happened to catch something standing tall and proud out on nearby hill. Closer inspection told me that it was a pine tree. "What's that pine tree doing out there, you think?" I asked Grover, tapping him on the shoulder and pointing. "It's kind of in the middle of nothing, huh? Weird place for a pine."

My friend's gaze fell on it, and he swallowed. "Um… I… d-don't know," he said guiltily. He quickly faced forward to stare directly at the back of my mom's headrest. With surprise and concern, I noted that tears hung in the corner of his eyes, and his lower lip was quivering. I immediately felt bad. I didn't know why, but for some reason, I felt like seeing that tree was bringing up some bad memories for Grover, and it was my fault.

"Hey, sorry, man," I said, wincing.

He sniffled. "I-I'm okay."

Thankfully, before any awkwardness could rise up between us, Mom pulled over on the side of the road.

"Everybody out!" she said hastily, and Grover and I each opened our doors, unclasped our seatbelts, and jumped out of Smelly Gabe's Camaro. We opened the trunk and pulled out our suitcases. Mom raised a curious eyebrow at Grover. "Are you going here, too, Grover?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said. "I'm a Keeper."

Understanding dawned in her eyes, although mine just narrowed in confusion.

"I see," she said gratefully, and she leaned down to give him a small hug. Her next words were so quiet I almost didn't hear them. "Thank you for keeping my boy safe for me. I cannot repay you enough."

"I-It's alright, ma'am." Grover's ears turned pink.

When my mother released him, she straightened up and smiled proudly at me for a while. Just when I was starting to get embarrassed and antsy, she swept over to give me a tight hug, and kissed me on the forehead. It was still warm when she stood up all the way again.

"I love you, Percy," she said warmly. "Stay safe and take care of yourself. If you can, please come back at the end of summer. You still have a place at Yancy."

I blinked. "Wait. You're not coming with us? But what if there's something you need to—?"

"I'm sorry." She shook her head and opened her car door again. "I can't enter the camp's borders. Only you and Grover can. When you're inside, go up and register at the Big House. Either Chiron or Mr. D will be there. They'll tell you what to do."

I deflated. I'd been hoping that Mom would take us in all the way to Camp Half-Blood. I had no idea what she meant by she couldn't enter the camp's borders, but I didn't want to say goodbye to her already.

"I love you, Mom," I said quietly, leaning forward, standing on my tiptoes, and giving her a goodbye kiss on the cheek, acutely aware of Grover watching us. "Drive safe."

"I will," she promised, and she stepped in her car and closed the door. The engine roared, and she backed up to make a 3-point turn. I watched her drive off sadly, an ache burning in my chest. I always hated to leave her, and having to say goodbye so soon after we'd finally gotten to see each other for the first time in six months hurt like a knife.

Grover patted my back reassuringly. "She'll be fine," he said, his eyes unintentionally flicking to the single pine tree standing on the hill. "Don't worry about her. Come on. Let's go to camp. It's just over this hill." I watched as her car disappeared below the crest of the hill, and with a heavy heart, I nodded, turned around, and wheeled my suitcase down the other side of the hill.

~o~

:: LATER THAT EVENING ::

"Sorry, Gabe. Looks like I'll be later than I said I would be."

The sun beginning to hang low in the sky, the blue Camaro rattled through the streets of a New York town, Sally Jackson completely silent inside. She dared not even breath as she rounded a corner, thinking about what her son had told her.

 _A monster in the school,_  she thought furiously.  _There could be more that Grover was unable to detect. It's harder to pick out the scent of monsters for a satyr when there's multiple targets concealing themselves in a large body. It is very likely that the only reason Percy was able to escape Yancy at all was because of Grover keeping an eye on him, that teacher he told me about who'd mentioned Camp to him, and Gabe's smell covering up his demigod scent. And since Percy could be returning next year, if there's any monsters there when he gets back, he'll be in huge danger. I can't let him go to school anywhere unsafe._

Her car rumbled up to a large building with ornate stone bricks making up its exterior walls and strong columns holding up a pyramid arch for the entrance. Painted above the doors in red and orange were the words  _Yancy Academy_.

 _Even though it's the end of the year,_ Sally reasoned as she slowly pulled up to a stop and looked out the window,  _the faculty should still be around. It's only the last day of school after all. They likely won't let things be until next week. And no monsters will be want me because I'm a mortal._

She scanned the perimeter, looking for any signs of monster activity. No suspicious mounds of dirt in the schoolyard. No mars on the walls. No blood on the columns.

The snorting of a pig happened to catch her ear, along with the flapping of wings, and she rolled down the window to stick her head out of it and looked upwards.

Her eyes widened.

"Echidna's son!" she gasped.

Flying around the top of the school was a huge, pink pig, snorting in annoyance. It was enormous, easily as large as Gabe's stupid Camaro, and its skin appeared quite hard indeed. The moment the word  _Echidna_  left her mouth, its attention fell down to her, and she thought she heard it sniff. Apparently unsatisfied, it started to turn away. Then it happened to sniff again, and suddenly it charged down through the air at her.

"What!?" she demanded, quickly turning her key in the ignition. She wasn't a demigod, and she hadn't even said its name—so how had it known where she was?

A raspy gasp escaped her lips.

Percy. She'd been around him a fair bit today and he'd spent six months away from Gabe's stench; it was probably a lot weaker on him then it usually was. Some of his scent must have rubbed off on her, and knowing whose son he was, even a single whiff of it must be incredibly potent. It had probably picked that up from her.

"Come on, come on," she begged, slamming her hand against the wheel. "Start!"

On cue, the engine whined to life, and she slammed down the gas pedal. With a squeal of rubber on pavement, Sally blasted forward, climbing from zero to fifty-five in record time. Screw speed limits; when one's life was on the line because they were being chased by a  _flying pig_  of all things, one was very reasonable to throw caution to the wind.

She glanced desperately in the rearview mirror. A cold beat of sweat rolled down her head. It was catching up. How fast could that enormous monster fly?

She stepped up the gas. Sixty, seventy. Sally was lucky that she was driving in the straight, grid-like streets of a quiet suburb. Otherwise she would've had trouble maintaining this speed. But was it even working?

Another glance stolen from the rearview told her that no, no it wasn't. In fact, the Crommyonian Sow was even closer now, closing the distance between them at an incredible pace. And in no time at all, there it was, flying next to her in the other lane of the road. A single beat from its wings was strong enough to shatter her window, glass spraying all over her.

Biting her lip, Sally increased her speed even more. No difference in their chase was made. It was over.

The Sow turned diagonally, gave an almighty flap of its wide wings, and smashed her car door, its snout sticking through the broken window and biting down on her head. It pulled at her hard, and she screamed in pain. The only thing keeping her from being dragged out of the car was her seatbelt.

Her skin curiously glowed yellow. The pig grunted at that; it had no idea why its prey felt as though she were quickly being shrouded in magic.

In the split second left that she had, one more thought shot through Sally's brain:  _I love you, Percy. I'm sorry._

Then she burst into light and left the car to careen down the road crazily, until it would eventually crash into an oak tree outside someone's house.


	12. Lady Luck is Literally Against Me

 

I think someone upstairs wasn’t too happy with my little info-spilling stunt earlier, because fate seemed to be against me as I was helping to clean up my cabin.

It started off simple enough. I wasn’t perfect at making my bed wrinkle-free yet, simply because I hadn’t bothered to make it even once back home, but it looked decent enough, anyway. The yellow bedsheets were on pretty neatly, the orange blanket laid over the sheets with only a few noticeably large wrinkles, and my pillow was only a tad crooked at the head of my bed. None of this bothered me very much, thanks to the fact that OCD was _not_ one of the things I suffered from. Except when it came to writing. Bad grammar and improper usage of dialogue techniques, and other stuff like that, always got on my nerves.

That made it a little hard to find fanfiction with interesting premises that I could actually _read_ without tearing my eyes out of my head… But I digress.

My evening started going bad when I stepped on the piece of Five gum I’d carelessly dropped on the floor earlier that day.

“Aw, really?” I sighed, staring at the bottom of my grey sneaker (white shoes were a _huge_ no-no) with a disappointed frown. Even if it was my own gum, it was still chewed up and dry, and had my teeth marks dented into it. _Grody_. I shuddered and gingerly reached down to pick it off. When it came off, strands of the green gum still stuck to the sole. I groaned and ran my non-yucky hand through my long, chocolate hair. Greeeeeat.

Well, at least Percy was here. He’d be able to wash off the gum with water soon enough. Until then, I’d just have to live with it. Unless Annabeth knew of a way to get it off?

No, wait, hadn’t there been a _One Piece_ episode where the Barto Pirates called Bartolomeo’s grandmother to ask what to do about the gum that covered their deck? I think there was. What had she suggested…? Something about using the cold hail—

 _WHACK_.

“Ouch!” I yelped, my train of thought immediately derailing as I whirled around to glare at a sheepish Michael Yew, who appeared to have hit me over the head with the end of the broom he was carrying. “Watch it!”

Michael winced, his blond locks bouncing as he rubbed his head. “Sorry,” he said with a wince. “That was an accident.”

I shrugged and made my way over to the trash can that sat next to the cabin door. “Ah, don’t sweat it,” I told him. I waved my hand to show that I wasn’t angry. “It’s no biggie.” Besides, the momentary pain had already subsided.

Now at the trash can, I carefully judged the distance, then the weight of the ripped-off gum in my hand. I hesitated a moment, then threw the gum. Or tried to, anyway. It stuck to my fingers. A grossed little _ew_ escaped my lips, and I made to throw it again, but it didn’t make any signs of coming off. At last, I cut my losses and simply scraped off the gum into the trash can. Thankfully, this time it all came off.

At the same time as I turned around and started walking back to my bed, Lee Fletcher was mopping the floor. I wasn’t paying attention, already lost in a fantasy world of intense battle music and imaginary fight scenes. I hummed something that sounded rather like RWBY’s _Red Like Roses Part II_ , earning me some rather curious looks from my other cabin mates as they went about cleaning their own areas. Unfortunately, due to my self-induced distraction, I walked right into the wet floor and the world suddenly flipped.

My long hair fell over my face, and I choked when some of it went into my mouth. The back of my head struck the wooden floorboards hard.

“ _Ow,_ ” I said again, a little louder this time, and immediately lifted myself up to a sitting position. Ruby Rose and Ichigo Kurosaki stopped fighting Roronoa Zoro in my head.

Man, _that_ had been weird. Normally, I had a rather good sense of balance even on slippery floors. My time as a McDonalds’ employee had taught me that. Grease commonly got on the floors when the grease traps got too full and we tried to empty them, and of course that required a full mop-up of the area. So why had my foot fallen in just the wrong way there?

Hmmm.

All of Apollo’s actual children rushed over to me, looking down over me with concerned frowns.

“You alright, Eve?” one of them—crap, I forgot his name (I’d always been bad with names)—said, offering me a hand.

I knocked it away and got to my feet by myself. “It’s okay, I’m fine.” My head ached annoyingly now, though. I scratched the point of impact tenderly, and my friends looked at me like they didn’t quite believe me. I rolled my eyes and continued back to my bed, making extra careful to watch where I stepped this time. “Seriously, you guys, I’m fine. It just aches a little.”

Will glanced at Michael, then shrugged. “If you’re sure,” he said, and I sighed. Gods, he was _such_ a mother hen sometimes.

“I’m sure.”

“Alright, people, back to work,” he said, and the tall kid clapped his hands. My cabin mates stopped staring at me and went back to whatever it was they’d been doing. I peered under my bed, looking for any chip wrappers or stray papers filled with writing notes that might have happened to have found their way underneath. (Hey, just because I was in a fantasy world didn’t mean I would stop having ideas for fantasy books.)

Nothing.

Well, if that rat that was scurrying towards me counted as nothing. I yelped and dived onto my bed, my heart pounding from the unexpected furry rodent. It scuttled away, getting lost somewhere under Lee Fletcher’s bed. Good. He could deal with the evil little bastard. Mice were adorable, but rats could go to hell—or, rather, Hades—for all I cared. They were evil little sons of bitches, to be topped only by skunks and spiders.

I sat on my bed, panting a little bit. That had jump-scared me more than I would’ve liked to admit.

“Man, this evening is _weird_ ,” I muttered to myself, rubbing my chin thoughtfully. Were rats even able to get into this cabin in the first place? That seemed kind of like the thing that shouldn’t be possible for the sleeping quarters of the kids of ancient gods—especially for the kids of ancient _medicine_ gods. When one adds in the factor of rats being known to have carried several rather potent diseases in the past, the ability of them to infiltrate the Apollo Cabin was highly questionable.

Whatever. That now familiar clenching in my waist was back again. I needed to go to the bathroom, and the bathroom was a time for thinking deeply about what could happen if Rick and Morty were to fight Bill Cipher with the _Gravity Falls_ cast, not to worry about my chances of finding a likely evil rodent under my bed.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” I announced, and stood up and went to leave the cabin.

Michael, fluffing his pillow, nodded, his back turned to me. “Be quick. Dinner starts soon.”

“I know.”

Outside, the first of the evening stars poked their way out of the darkening blue canvas above me. A cool breeze carried briny air from the sea, pleasant to breathe in. The climbing wall flashed and glowed with lava out in the distance as some poor campers tried to scale it. Away at the lake, the Aphrodite cabin worked together to heave a couple canoes back to the canoe storage racks. The Demeter cabin swooped through the sky on Pegasi with the desire to get in a few more rounds of flying before dinner.

And then there was plain ol’ me, human extraordinaire, singing Ed Sheeran softly as I went to a bathroom I would’ve had no rights being in just barely over a month before. And also somehow managing to step into every single mud puddle that lay between the cabins and the bathrooms.

“Seriously?” I groaned after the fifth time I happened to step in a puddle of wet earth. “How is there even mud here anyway? This is _Camp Half-Blood_. There isn’t supposed to be any rain to create mud in the first place. Like seriously, what the fuck is going on with tonight?”

Mumbling about bad luck, I entered the women’s bathroom and found an empty stall.

For a camp that was made for the gods’ children, the bathrooms were every bit the rundown piece of junk that Percy had described in the books. The doors were partly rusted, with the common unnecessary swears inscribed by pen and knife on many of the stalls. Except this time, the swears came in 100% more Ancient Greek, meaning I couldn’t even amuse myself by reading them. At least the girls’ toilet seats were a thousand times cleaner than the boys’ seats in my school’s and every public bathroom I’d been in were. Seriously, guys, if you’re gonna have bad aim when you’re shaking hands with the president, at _least_ lift up the seat of the goddamned toilet!

 _Grrrgh_.

But again, I digress.

I walked across the mucky floor, speckled with dirt from people’s shoes and some dried leaves from the forest here and there. I chose a stall and entered it, shutting the door behind me and latching it. I then turned around and shoved my shorts and… _dear gods_ … panties down. Now, don’t get me wrong. I’d seen my own parts by now more than enough times to be entirely desensitized to them. Heck, they felt as natural as my old body had. But the fact that I had to wear panties and a bra now? I didn’t think I’d _ever_ get used to that.

As I was sitting down and preparing to do my business, people entered the bathroom. I didn’t pay them much attention, mostly focused on Saitama’s theme song, which was playing in my head. It always took a little bit to get going, since although it felt natural having the parts there now, I still wasn’t entirely used to the differences in how they functioned compared to my old parts.

Man, what an awkward subject…

Anyway, it wasn’t until the water started making sounds below me without my doing anything to it that I pulled myself from my thoughts. Frowning, I looked down, but of course I could only see a little of the toilet seat between my mostly clenched legs. I got up and turned around to get a better look at what was going on. I blinked and frowned deeper.

Was toilet water supposed to swirl around in a mini whirlpool like that, _before_ it’s flushed?

Out of the corner of my ear, I happened to hear a mean, smug voice say, “Taste that water, punk.”

Even with my aforementioned bad memory of names, I didn’t even need to see the face of the voice’s owner to immediately know it was Clarisse. No one else was as eager about being mean as Clarisse, and she also called literally everybody _punk_ , except Mr. D. Not even Clarisse was stupid enough to call the wine god _punk_ , although sometimes I wished she was. Her sword training sessions belonged in the Fields of Punishment.

Now, why did Clarisse calling someone _punk_ in the girls’ bathroom feel familiar to me?

I had one moment to think, _Oh, shit, this is_ that _scene in the books,_ and another to hastily pull up my panties. I tried to get my shorts, too, but I wasn’t _that_ lucky. The toilet water arched up out of the bowl before I’d gotten them past my thighs. I drew in a quick breath of air and tried to plug my nose, but the entire contents of the plumbing knocked into me like one of those six-foot tall waves I’d played in during a vacation to New York City with my grandparents as a kid. And just like back then with my light little kid body, the water tendril pushed me back with surprising force.

I slammed into the stall door with a surprised yelp, which somehow blew open. I had no idea how, since I’d definitely latched it closed. Whichever way, I was washed out of my stall and I tumbled across dirty tiles, sputtering and cursing. Water had managed to get up my nose, and despite it being 100% water, it still _reeked_ just because of the type of water it was.

“Eve?” came the smooth alto of Annabeth Chase’s worried and surprised voice. I looked to my right once friction stopped my tumbling, and I could actually tell where ‘right’ _was_. She stood there by the door to the bathroom, her Disney princess blonde locks of hair waterlogged and heavy. Near her, several of the Ares kids were groaning and dazed on the floor of the bathroom, Clarisse among their number. “You were here?”

“Yeah.” I coughed the terrible taste of toilet water out of my mouth, and little drops of the nasty stuff splashed into the rest of the water that now coated the evenly placed tiles. “Bad day to go to the bathroom, huh?”

“Of all the times you picked to go to the bathroom, you _had_ to pick the period when Clarisse tried bullying Percy but got everything turned back around on her,” Annabeth deadpanned. She splashed through the centimeters of water and offered me a dripping hand. “You have the _worst_ luck in this entire camp.”

I accepted it and she lifted me up. I pulled my now sopping shorts back up all the way.

Quick footsteps rang out, and we both looked left to see none other than Percy, who looked equal parts excited, flummoxed, and worried, coming out of the stall Clarisse and her gang had forced him into. “Eve?” he said, and as he walked forward, the water just around his feet parted so that he wouldn’t get them wet. I was instantly jealous. I’d always wanted water powers. “Geez, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were here too.”

I sighed. Twelve-year-old Percy was freaking adorable, and even if I hadn’t been mad, that wrinkled brow would’ve taken all my anger right out of me. “It’s okay, Perce. You couldn’t have known there was anyone else here. It’s not your fault.”

“How did you _do_ that, anyway?” Annabeth wondered as Clarisse, half-conscious, groaned weakly.

Hah. Serves her right.

“I remembered Eve mentioned that my father was Poseidon,” Percy said, nodding in my direction, and I blushed as Annabeth stared at me.

“That can’t be true!” she denied, shaking her head rapidly. “I mean… yeah, you have those little… premonitions or whatever they are, but that can’t be true. The Big Three took an oath.”

Ah, yes, I’d forgotten that I’d dropped that bombshell. “Well, um… they’re gods and are kind of really, really bad at keeping oaths? Like, _really_ bad? Did I mention how really bad they are at that?”

Thunder rumbled overhead. I winced.

Annabeth’s face paled. “What.”

Percy raised an eyebrow at that whole ‘premonitions’ and ‘oath’ thing, but carried forward with his explanation. “Er… anyway, at first, I didn’t believe her, but after Grover revealing that he’s a freaking _satyr_ , Mr. Brunner revealing that he’s actually freaking _Chiron_ , and the orientation video, I was a little more open to what she was saying. Plus, it… kind of made a lot of sense to me, deep down. The beach or the pool had always been the only places where it felt like everything didn’t matter so much.”

The Daughter of Wisdom gaped. “ _What._ No, no, no, that can’t be true… Can’t be…!”

“So, anyway, I just kind of imagined Clarisse getting splashed with water instead of me, because I really did _not_ want to get dunked in that stuff, and then the plumbing just kind of… responded.” He winced at Annabeth and me. “Er, sorry again, you two.”

“None taken,” I said, and grabbed some of my hair, then twisted. Water oozed out of it like it was a wet towel. Beside me, the resident blonde was just staring at Percy like he was some incorrect information in a textbook. I blinked up at her. “Oh, by the way, notice how Percy’s standing in the only dry section of the entire floor?”

Annabeth’s silver orbs rolled down to the floor around Percy. Her jaw dropped even further in disbelief. A dry sound came from the back of her throat, and then she just stared blankly. Percy and I exchanged looks, and I leaned forward and waved my hand in front of her face.

Nada.

“Percy,” I said, somewhat amused at Annabeth’s real-life reaction, “I think we broke Annabeth.”

The poor kid’s brow wrinkled even more with concern. “Yeah, no kidding,” he said.

“Well, you take her to my buds at the Apollo Cabin; they’ll be able to snap her out of it if she doesn’t do it on her own. As for me, I’ll go back to what I’d been doing before the toilet exploded on my face.”

Percy got a horrified look on his face that sent me breaking down into snickers, and nodded quickly. “Uh, yeah, er, you do that. I… I’m leaving now. Bye.” He grabbed the pretty much comatose Annabeth and, with surprising strength, rushed out of the bathroom with her. I snorted as Clarisse and her cronies slowly started sitting up, and went back into my stall. Water had for some reason already filled back into the bowl. I turned, shut the latch _very_ firmly, and started to lean back to sit on the toilet bowl.

And I promptly lost my balance again and ended up falling _into_ the toilet bowl.

“… _ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME._ ”

It was just the start of a long, _long_ string of really bad luck.


End file.
